


Temptation (Larry Stylinson)

by larry_love23



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Anorexia, Anorexia Recovery, Bottom Harry, College, College AU, Dark, Drama, Eating Disorder, Emotional Roller Coaster, Flamboyant, LGBT, Love Triangle, M/M, Punk, Recovery, Sassy Louis, Smut, Top Louis, anorexic louis, bicurious, college love story, gay fraternity, hamille, identity crisis, larrystylinson, mental health, onedirection, selfdiscovery, zete, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 06:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 62,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15431544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larry_love23/pseuds/larry_love23
Summary: Harry just transferred to a new university and he's trying his best to fit in and make friends. As he struggles to come to terms with his sexuality, he develops a crush on Louis, a super flamboyant acting student and the president of the school's LGBT fraternity. While Harry keeps his eyes on Louis from a far, Lou quickly begins to notice the younger boy's attraction to him and makes some daring moves of his own. Does this push Harry over the edge, or does he give into his desires?Starring....Niall as Harry's roommateZiam as Lou's housematesCamille as a thirsty wannabeHIGHEST RANKINGS (for Wattpad):#1 in #Bicurious#3 in #DiscoveringYourself#25 in #AnorexiaRecovery





	1. Party

"Harry we're going to be late!" Camille yelled from the hallway.

"Just a sec!" Harry replied, tossing on yet another shirt, despite already trying on six different ones. He wished he had more time to get ready, as this was going to be his very first party at the University of Chicago and he wanted to make a good first impression on the other students, but Camille was impatient and it didn't seem like there was any time for that now.

Sighing, Harry grabbed his favorite black leather jacket and took one last look in his door length mirror, running his hands through his brown locks, which were a bit longer than he usually kept them. He probably should have gotten a haircut earlier today instead of spending all his time watching Netflix.

"Harry!" Camille banged on the door, causing Harry's mirror to shake, and he jumped forward steadying it before turning the door knob to find a pouting Camille, clad in ripped denim shorts, a black crop top and an oversized athletic jacket.

"Sorry, I got back from the gym late. Ran late," Harry muttered to her, biting his lip as he locked up the door. He had only met Camille this afternoon, when she volunteered to show him around campus. She had gone to high school with Harry's friend Greg, and when Greg found out Harry was transferring to uni in Chicago, he connected the two so Harry could get to know someone at his new school. 

Harry thought it was nice of Greg at first, but after meeting Camille, he wasn't so sure. She was mouthy and had a bad temper, as shown by her reaction to having to wait for five minutes, and based on her casual mention of coke and molly, she seemed to run with a wild crowd.

Harry probably shouldn't have agreed to go to this party with her tonight, but he didn't have anything better to do. Plus, if he was being honest, he found her rather attractive. He wasn't even into the bad girl type, but there was something about her bright blue eyes and wild blonde hair that drew him in. Taking a look at her in the crop top, well, Harry was feeling even more attracted.

"So, this party is going to be sick!" Camille squealed as they walked down the musty grey corridor and out the back exit. Harry nodded, absentmindedly, thinking about the last party he had gone to at the University of London. He thought it may have been a dressup party, maybe Halloween. He had definitely had too much to drink and ended up on top of a pool table making out with some girl named Kelly or Courtney or whatever.

Not his proudest moment. Or maybe his proudest? He wasn't sure.

"What's the theme?" Harry asked. He raised an eyebrow, his green eyes gleaming in the moonlight as they stepped outside.

"It's at Zete. Did you have a chapter at your old school?" she replied, raising her eyebrows back. Harry wondered if she was flirting with her or that's just how she was.

"No, we didn't have Greek life. Which one is it?" Harry asked, following Camille around the corner of the arts and sciences building. Everything looked different at night. The shadows danced on the sidewalk beneath him and milky stars coated the sky. It was only 10 pm here -- 4 am in London. He wondered what his mum and sister would see if they looked up at the sky right now.

"It's the gay frat. LGBT. They throw the best parties. Most of the guys will be shirtless!" she said, giggling. She watched as Harry's eyes widened at the word 'shirtless' and flashed him an accusatory smile, as if to say 'do you have something to hide?'

Harry quickly took a deep breath, ignoring Camille and trying to give off a semblance of composure. He didn't want her to know how fast his heart was beating, how beads of sweat were collecting on his neck. How he was terrified.

"Oh, wow. Why are you taking me then?" he asked nervously. His laugh came out chortled, distorted almost.

"There'll be girls there. Plus, who's to say you're not into men. I'm bi," she admitted with a playful shrug.

Based on the loud music coming from a building in the distance, they seemed to be close to the party. Harry followed the noise to the fourth floor window, where he could see rainbow lights flashing and the shadows of silhouettes brushing against each other.

"Bi," Harry replied, the words lingering on his tongue a little too long. "Didn't know that. Looks like it's gonna be fun though." He pointed at the window, doing his best to distract Camille. With his close friends, he might open up a bit more about how he was feeling, but she was a near stranger. He didn't want things to get messy with her.

"Of course. It's always fun at Zete," she said, almost seductively, before jogging down the block and disappearing into the shadows behind the building that housed the party.

"Camille?" Harry called a few minutes later. He didn't feel like running and getting all sweaty -- there would be enough of that inside the party. But maybe he should have because now he couldn't find her.

Suddenly, just as he began to text her, the back door swung open and Camille stood in the doorway holding two red solo cups, motioning with her neck for Harry to come join her inside. Her jacket was off now, and with the fluorescent lighting illuminating her tan, curvy body, Harry found her even more attractive.

"Thanks!" he said, hurrying up the stairs and grabbing one of the solo cups. 

"Cheers!" she said. They touched their solo cups together, gently so as not to spill and then Harry followed Camille up to the fourth floor where shirtless men may or may not have been.

The heat began to rise with each floor they climbed, and when Camille finally pulled the flat door open, it felt like they were entering a sauna. Harry instantly regretted wearing his black jeans and white T-shirt (the one with the floral print pocket!). He should have gone with shorts like Camille.

"Hey!!" Camille squealed, throwing her arm around a brunette girl who approached her. There were bodies everywhere, dancing, drinking, yelling. At first glance, it looked like a normal party, but when Harry looked closer, he noticed it wasn't the ordinary kick back.

There was glitter everywhere and tons of guys wearing nothing but sparkly pink shorts and matching vests -- like something out of a Magic Mike movie. Some of them had makeup on, some had beards that were painted on with glitter, others had glitter in their hair and beards. Everything was shimmering, shining, moving.

And Harry had no idea to what to make of it.

"Harry, this is Jen!" Camille yelled over the music -- a Fergie song had just come on and now people were singing along. Harry nodded, feeling a bit disoriented as he shook Jen's hand. Suddenly, he remembered the real reason he was here: to meet people and make new friends at school. Though it was going to be a rather difficult task in such a distracting environment.

Of course, not every guy at the party was covered in glitter and half naked. There were other guys dressed in jeans and a T-shirt just like him. The ones who were dressed up were the ones who were part of the frat, the ones who owned the apartment. And they outnumbered the rest of the men here by a landslide.

"Let's go dance!" Camille called to Harry, who was now chugging the contents of his drink. He nodded and she grabbed his wrist, pulling him through the mess of bodies to a different room in the back of the apartment. Camille had been here before, and knew that this room was where most of the dancing happened.

When they got to the room, Camille released Harry's wrist. "This glitter will be stuck on you for days!" she said, laughing as she wiped some off her face.

Harry laughed along, the alcohol calming him down a bit. It wasn't nearly enough though. Because of his tall frame, he always needed more than everyone else, which meant he would have to go seek out another drink later.

Jen had followed Camille and Harry to the dance room, and now Camille turned to her and began to dance, the two girls echoing each other's movements as they stood side by side. Harry looked around the room at the rest of the partygoers, who were mostly girls dancing with friends and a handful of frat guys weaving through the crowd as they twerked or fist-bumped with to the music. Sometimes, they would find an interested guy and dance with him for a little. Other times they'd dance with each other.

Harry didn't know where he fit in this crowd of people, so he just swayed to the beat and moved his hips a little, dancing just enough so he didn't stick out, but not so much that he would feel embarrassed. A happy medium.

"Harry! Dance with me, now," Camille said. He felt her grabbing his arm, and he stumbled towards her, nearly tripping.

"Easy there, you're going to take my arm right off!" he said with a laugh. He locked eyes with Camille, the blue hue of her irises causing his pupils to dilate a bit. 

"Maybe I will!" she quipped back in a sassy tone. She started to gyrate her hips a little and motioned for Harry to come closer.

Harry needed a lot more to drink.

He came closer to her, continuing to sway to the music as a Drake song came on. Camille's face lit up in recognition, and she positioned herself in front of Harry, holding up her arms and moving her body to the quick pace of the rap.

Harry moved closer, still leaving a bit of room between them. Camille quickly closed the gap, pressing her ass against his crotch and intensifying her dancing. Getting into the music, Harry grabbed her waist and started to gyrate, the flashing rainbow lights immersing him into some sort of dream world.

Camille continued to dance, and it was getting harder and harder not to grow hard. Harry bit his lip, taking his gaze off of her and looking around the room to help distract himself. He could not get hard on this girl who was currently his only friend at uni. It would ruin everything.

As he scanned the room, his eyes instantly stopped when he saw a pink glittering torso standing in the door frame.

Bright blue eyes sparkled in the dim light of the room, and toussled brown hair fell across the man's forehead. His lips were curled into what seemed to be a permanent smirk, and his brows were furrowed, as if in anticipation for something suspicious to happen. A soft layer of silver glitter coated the stubble on his jaw, which was sharp and prominent. 

His torso was sparkling, not because he wore a glitter vest like the others, but because it was covered in glitter -- his pec muscles popping against the shiny substance. His muscular legs could hardly be contained by his tight pink shorts, and the battered blue vans on his feet hardly seemed to match with any of it.

Harry bit his lip, trying to contain himself, but before he could look away, the man in the door frame jumped forward, grabbed a bottle of champagne off a nearby shelf and popped it open, sending suds everywhere.

"Who's ready to fucking party?!" he sreamed.

Harry swallowed. Hard.


	2. Pony

Time began to slow as the glittery boy made his way from the doorway to the top of a nearby table, his shimmering body taking center stage of the tiny room. Without hesitation, he began to raise his arms and gyrate his hips to the beat of the music, creating a sparkly spectacle where he stood. Party-goers began to surround him now. They cheered him on and formed a circle of sweaty bodies on the floor below him. Two other similarly sparkly frat brothers emerged from the crowd and mounted the table and join him, dancing eccentrically.

"Cue the music!" one shouted. He had dark hair and stubble and a long, chiseled torso which was covered in tattoos. Seconds later, he tugged at his sparkly vest and threw it off into the crowd -- now, his audience -- revealing more tattoos on his hipbones. 

The other guy, a tall, muscular brunette with rippling abs, stroked his glitter beard and nodded, raising his chiseled arm to point a remote at the back wall. Instantly, Pony by Ginuwine began to play and the three men assembled, the original bloke with the sparkly torso in the middle. 

"Ohmigosh! They're gonna perform," Camille squealed, interrupting Harry's laser focus on the three half naked men before him. He and Camille had stopped dancing ages ago -- Harry had practically turned into a statue when he saw the glittery man pop the bottle of champagne, his body firm and unmoving against Camille's gyrating hips. 

Upon noticing his stagnancy, Camille had turned around towards Harry, a sly smile spreading across her lips as she watched him stare at the blue-eyed man. His green eyes were so dilated they were nearly black, and his lips were red from nervous biting. Perhaps she had taken Harry to this Zete party for a good reason...

"Looks like they are," Harry finally replied to Camille, following behind her as she made her way towards the crowd surrounding the table -- which had now transformed into a stage. When Harry looked down, he noticed how tightly her shorts hugged her ass, and quickly began wishing he had drank more earlier in the night. 

"That one in the middle is Louis," Camille said, leaning on her tip toes and cupping her hands around Harry's ear as she spoke. "He's Zete's president. Always puts on a show." 

Harry nodded, running a hand through his hair, and followed Camille deeper into the crowd, blinking his eyes as the rainbow flashing lights intensified. 

Always puts on a show was right. Louis was currently running his hands across his torso seductively to the beat of the music, sending glitter flying everywhere. The other two boys mirrored his motions, moving their hips in unison and flexing their biceps in different poses.

As the chorus picked up, Louis started to do a series of body rolls, all the while maintaining his pouty smirk. Harry could have sworn those blue eyes were looking into his soul as he danced. 

"If you're horny 

Let's do it

Ride it, my pony 

My saddle's waiting 

come and jump on it"

Louis was now down on the ground, hip thrusting against the table top as he supported himself with his triceps. As if the crowd wasn't excited enough before, they were going wild now, screaming and jumping around. Camille shrieked, using the chaos as an opportunity to throw herself into Harry's arms.

"Careful there," Harry bellowed. He had barely caught her, and was now holding her an arm's distance away, eyes still focused on the show. Camille looked up at him with a pouty face, her red lips curling into frown. 

Harry made eye contact with her and blushed. He had been spending so much time immersed in the dancing that he had hardly paid any attention to Camille. He hoped she didn't notice how much he was enjoying it, how much he was staring...

Louis was doing a split now, his package straining against the fabric of the bright pink shorts as he dropped it low. Behind him, the dark haired man was grinding against the brunette, lowering himself slowly and twerking onto his crotch. 

At this point, Harry started to feel faint, like he had seen too much. He couldn't be here right now...He needed to get out of here... Go anywhere but here. Camille sensed his franticness and hopped on her tiptoes again, draping an arm around him as she talked into his ear. 

"You okay?" she questioned. 

"Fine. Just need air," Harry replied, his deep voice small and vulnerable. 

Camille nodded and followed after Harry as he navigated his way through the crowd, his long limbs allowing him to pass through easily. 

"This way," Camille called, once they got to the doorway. "Fire exit." 

Harry followed her into another room, a bedroom, where a group of students were doing lines of cocaine off of a desk, and followed her to the window. She pushed it open, and began to climb out, fresh air showering Harry's face as he headed after her. 

"You okay? Seemed really focused back there," Camille said, leaning her legs out through the metal bars. Street lamps and headlights danced below her dangling feet, illuminating the dark stretches of avenue below. 

Harry sat pretzel style next to her and pulled out a cigarette, his hand shaking slightly as he lit up. He offered the pack to Camille, who shrugged and took one.

"I'm fine," Harry replied, exhaling the smoke through his nose. He handed her the lighter and she took it eagerly, her manicured fingernails shining in the moonlight. 

"Just haven't been to a party in a long time. I don't do well in crowds," he continued, watching as Camille breathed out, the white smoke encircling her cherry lips. 

"Or perhaps you haven't been to a party like this," she suggested. Harry avoided eye contact, trying to come up with a response. 

"I sure haven't. It's been a lot of fun though. Thank you for the invite, Camille," he replied smoothly. Camille blushed as she said his name, his deep voice slowly forming the syllables. It seemed to distract her for a moment, and she batted her eyes, her long lashes meeting in the middle. 

"You're quite welcome, Harry," she finally said, rolling the cigarette between her fingers. "But there's something about you that you're not telling me. And I'm determined to find out."

Harry snorted, perhaps out of nervousness or perhaps out of pure amusement. "Let's get another round of drinks then. And maybe you'll find out," he replied, a sexy grin forming on his lips. 

Camille nodded and reached back inside the window for an ash tray. They put their cigarettes out in silence, taking one last look at the Chicago streets. Harry took a deep breath before climbing back into the apartment, the hot, steamy air of the party replacing the cool nighttime breeze.


	3. Meeting

When harry looked down, he felt like he was watching his body move from three rooms away. His head was spinning, and the walls began to swivel around him, dancing along to the beat with the rest of the party goers. Harry shook his head, as if trying to eradicate the dizziness, and took another sip of his drink. His balance was failing him, but he didn't seem to care.

After he and Camille had smoked on the fire escape, they went to the kitchen to get more drinks. They seemed to be out of alcohol, but of course Camille knew about the secret hiding place under the sink, and she helped herself to some Fireball Whiskey, a sickening blend of cinnamon flavoring and liquor.

Camille grabbed two solo cups, filling one up with three shots worth. "How much do you want?" She asked Harry. Kneeling on the linoleum floor, she looked up at him with her big blue eyes, somehow both innocent and guilty at the same time.

Harry shook his head and pushed the plastic cup aside, kneeling next to her. "Can I see it?" He asked, pointing to the bottle. Camille nodded, allowing her fingers to brush against Harry's ask she handed it over.

Without warning, Harry threw his head back and began to chug, a firey sensation sweeping through his throat as he gulped it down. Camille giggled at him, shaking her head as she watched him struggle towards the end.

"Fuck!!" Harry gasped, coughing and nearly smashing the bottle on the ground.

"Too much?" Camille asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Or not enough," Harry replied with a smirk. His face was all red now and he was wiping the excess fireball that had leaked down his chin during his chugging session.

Camille grabbed the bottle from the ground, finishing off the small remainder of what was left. Then she grabbed her solo cup and hopped up, placing it on the counter.

Harry stood up too, but not without wobbling a little bit. The alcohol was already hitting him — perhaps because his tolerance decreased over the summer or perhaps because he had just drank way too much in one sitting. Either way, he began to feel a bit of lightheadedness washing over him as he rose.

Camille grabbed Harrys's wrist, steadying him, and made her way with into one of the main rooms, luckily not the room they had been in earlier. This room also had people dancing, but not as many. And there weren't rainbow lights, just dangly white Christmas lights surrounding the perimeters of the walls.

"You look so cute when you try to drink alcohol," Camille said, leading Harry to the corner of the room, opposite from the stereos. She liked to feel the beat of the music vibrating against her ears.

"Try or succeed?" Harry asked curiously. It was probably the third question he had answered with a question tonight. But even with the alcohol in his system, he wanted to keep Camille guessing. And flirty non answers seemed to be the way to do it.

Camille looked back at him, her blue eyes shining in the dim lighting, a tiny, and shook her head. "Styles," she said softly, wiping a tiny smudge of mascara at the base of her eyelid. "You're one tough guy to figure out."

Looking back now, that conversation felt like ages ago to Harry, who was currently holding onto the fireplace and trying to regain his balance. Somewhere between talking to Camille and now, he had gotten wildly drunk — accepting even more drinks, taking shots with strangers who called him "buddy," and just barely rejecting a colorful pill that Camille had pulled from the confines her purse.

Now, for all Harry knew, Camille was off in the bathroom or with Jen or somewhere that wasn't here. He wasn't sure how long she had been gone or how long she would be gone. But he hoped she'd be back soon because people were starting to leave and he didn't quite know how to get back home.

Sighing, Harry slumped against the wall next to the fireplace, trying to remember the blurry night as he waited for Camille. She had touched him so many times, fall onto him even. It was clear she wanted something more than friendship with him, and Harry was interested -- he just wasn't ready. There was too much to figure out first... too much to decide. Too much....

Harry's thoughts were immediately interrupted when a blurry mass of pink glittery bodies began to approach him. He instantly jolted upright, nearly crashing into t nearby lamp shade, and pulled out his phone, trying to act casual. But how could he when his heart was racing faster than the EDM beat and he was so drunk he could hardly form coherent sentences?

As if an angel sent from above, Camille suddenly appeared next to Harry, another drink in hand. Her pupils looked gigantic and her bra strap was hanging down over her shoulder, but other than that she seemed relatively composed -- or at least more composed than Harry.

"Went to get another," she giggled, her speech just barely slurring. "Want some?"

Harry shook his head, which was now aching, a combination of the nervousness from seeing the dancing frat guys and from drinking way more than his share of alcohol.

"I'm.. .I'm good," he stammered, eyes widening as he realized that the men were now only a few inches away from him.

While Harry was trying desperately not to cringe, Camille didn't seem bothered at all. "Liam, Zayn," she cooed, throwing her arms around the two men who had been dancing together -- rather sexually -- on the table. Harry stared at her, his green eyes hungry for answers. He didn't know that she knew them personally...

"Cammie!" the dark haired man, Zayn, cooed. He kissed her on the cheek lightly. His dark stubble grazed her face.

"Hands off my man!" the other brunette, Liam, joked, wrapping an arm around Zayn's tattooed hip. Camille shook her head and giggled, sloshing her drink a little on the floor.

"Are you going to mop that later, then, Cammie?" Louis chimed in, his tone simultaneous joking and accusatory. Harry felt a chill travel down his spine as he heard Louis speak for the first time. It was definitely not what he was expecting. Louis didn't offer the classic American gay "heeeyyy!" or the overly deep "hello." Instead, his voice was high pitched, squeaky almost, with a fully British accent. He was clearly from the UK -- the others were too. But they weren't from the same parts. Harry racked his brain as he tried to decipher the accent, but completely abandoned his thoughts when he realized that Louis was now looking at him.

Bright blue orbs peered in Harry's green ones, and Harry was instantly overcome by speechlessness. Why was he looking at him? What did he want? What the fuck was going on?

"Harry, he asked your name, love," Camille's voice echoed. Harry looked at her stunned, and then let out a nervous laugh, that was more of a snort than anything else.

"Right, sorry. I'm, kinda a little dazed...." he began, his face instantly reddening as he realized Louis was still staring at him, as were Liam and Zayn.

"You're British?" Liam asked, his brown eyes widening. Harry couldn't tell if he was genuinely curious or just trying to help him out, but either way he was grateful.

"Yup, from Cheshire," he said. It was the first sentence he had delivered with ease in several hours, which made him delightfully impressed with himself. Unfortunately, it did very little to calm his nerves or reduce the tingling feeling in his pants, which was now increasing every time he looked at the chiseled, glittery bodies before him.

"No way. My best mate's from Cheshire. I'm from Wolverhampton. Z's from Bradford. Fancy meeting another Brit," he said, excitedly. Zayn nodded in agreement, and Louis cocked his head, giving Harry a sort of once over.

Harry swallowed and bit his lip. He looked at Camille, who was giggling at nothing, and now twirling around next to Zayn, holding his hand.

"Well, welcome, bloke. I'm the president here at Zete," said Louis, taking a step towards Harry. "So let me know if you ever need anything. Camille showing you around okay?"

"Y-yeah," Harry nodded, his head bobbing wildly. "She showed me the Fire-ball..."

"Harry!" Camille said, her tanned face flushing pink.

Harry shrugged, too drunk to see how it was a problem.

"You fucker," Zayn said, giggling and releasing her hand. "The Fireball is for VIP's only."

"Well Harold is a VIP," she replied, crossing her arms and smirking.

"I'm sure he is," replied Louis. He stared at Harry, his blue eyes flickering up and down once more. "Well, I have to go tend to the kegs. Some wankers are going to knock them over any second now."

He rolled his eyes and motioned for Zayn and Liam to come with him. They nodded, but not before stealing a quick kiss.

Harry felt his eyes linger a bit two long on the couple as they kissed each other, tenderly joining their lips and caressing each other's shoulders. Camille was so interested in him, and he could easily be with her tonight. But why didn't he want that? And why was he jealous of what Zayn and Liam had?

"Nice to meet you, Harry," Louis called, turning around and heading to the kitchen. Harry nearly collapsed as he watched his perfect bum sway back and forth in the tight pink shorts.

About a few steps into his departure, however, Louis turned around, facing Harry and Camille once again. "I hope you enjoyed the show," he said, his lips twisting into a sexy smirk.

"Oh, you know we did," Camille called back. Then she leaned over and vomited on Harry's shirt.

It was going to be a long night.


	4. Friends

"Are you sure you're well?" Harry asked Camille for probably the third time tonight. Shortly after she puked on his shirt, Harry, who was barely capable of taking care of himself, decided to put aside his sloppy drunkenness and frat-boy-induced jitters and become a hero for the night. 

"I'm sooooo sorry!" Camille had shrieked, wiping the orange substance off of her mouth as she looked up at Harry in horror.

"It's alright, it's alright. Let's get you home," Harry replied softly. His green eyes widened and he After being unexpectedly drenched in vomit, he was suddenly starting to feel sober. 

Camille nodded, leaning onto Harry's arm as he led her to the door. Harry grimaced as he looked down at white his shirt, one of his favorites, which was ruined now. But Camille's big blue eyes begged for forgiveness, and he couldn't help but give it to her.

"Hold onto the railing, okay?" Harry instructed, though he could hardly gain his balance himself. Shaking his head, he quickly realized neither of them were going to make it down the stairs in one piece -- especially because Camille was nearly toppling over in her heeled boots. 

"Climb on then," Harry told her, leaning down so she could jump onto his back. Camille happily linked her arms around Harry's neck, his muscles tensing slightly beneath her touch. Grabbing onto the railing, Harry made his way down the stairs with Camille, hoping and praying that there would be no repeat of the vomiting incident, as this time it could very well get on his head. 

"Good job, Hazzy!" Camille cooled, petting Harry's brown locks as they neared the end of the staircase and he lowered her to the floor. 

"Thanks, Camille," he said. He wasn't drunk enough to return the favor with the pet names. 

"So tell me where we're headed," he said, leading Camille out the back door through which they had entered the party earlier. He held her arm to support her, as she still seemed very wobbly, as if she had the legs of a newborn calf. 

"To my place, right?" she replied, giggling. Harry noticed that her makeup was smudged, and that she had lipstick on her teeth. With anyone else, it probably would have looked a bit trashy, but with Camille, it was rather endearing. Gave her character. 

"Yeah, but where? I know the first street to go down, but I forget the turn we make," Harry replied, impatiently pulling up his phone to look it up. He hadn't gotten an American phone plan yet, and was hesitant to use data, but based on the way Camille was laughing in his face, it was pretty clear she wouldn't be giving him the proper directions, if any at all. 

"We should turn... back into the party, so you can talk to Lou!" Camille giggled, jabbing her index finger into Harry's chest. She made a kissy face at him and Harry lurched backwards instinctively, nearly sending the two of them flying. 

"You're drunk," Harry said, as he caught his breath. He readjusted his grip on Camille's arm and began to lead her down the street while programming the directions. Camille was rather tiny compared to Harry, but she had been able to match his pace before on the way to the party. Now she was moving slowly, dragging her feet and stopping at every little thing that distracted her. 

"Look a fire hydrant!" she yelled, pulling Harry over to it, her short blonde locks flowing behind her. Harry rolled his eyes and released her, watching her run forward and then bend down and hug the fire hydrant, which was likely covered with layers of dog urine. Shoulders tensing, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. But deep down, he was happy that this gross distraction had ended their discussion about Louis Tomlinson, the man who's body he could not seem to get out of his head for the life of him.

"Help me up!" Camille whined as she struggled to stand. Harry nodded and extended a hand, cringing as one of Camille's acryllic nails pierced his skin. 

"Okay, that's it. I'm calling an Uber," Harry said, rubbing his finger, which was now bleeding out. He blotted it with one of the few clean patches of his now-sour-smelling Tshirt, which he was itching to remove and throw out the second got home. 

Harry felt guilty calling an Uber, as it was only several minutes of a walk back to campus, and he was raised not to waste money on frivolous things like that. But Camille had just taken a solid 10 minutes to get down a single block, and Harry was running out of patience. 

"Yes, so we can Uber back to the party! You have to tell Louis how you FEEL, Harry," she said, her eyes fluttering open and closed as she twirled around next to him. "Or maybe you like someone else..." 

She made flirty eyes at him as she said 'someone else,' a gesture which made Harry's stomach twist into a knot. 

Avoiding eye contact, he shook his head and feigned a stiff laugh, neither confirming nor denying anything. He REALLY didn't want to talk to Camille right now about these things. Sure, she was shit faced and wouldn't remember in the morning, but it just didn't feel right. It was just too confusing, too much. Because Harry really didn't even know himself what was happening, where his emotions were taking him, where his attractions lied. 

Sometimes it was just so tough being stuck in the middle, not knowing which way to go. Just like he sometimes felt stuck between two countries, Britain and the U.S., he often felt stuck between two sexual attractions, each one pulling him in a different direction, tearing his limbs away from him until there was nothing left but a beating heart. 

But what was it beating for? 

Deep stuff, right? But Harry was still a little drunk, and when the Uber finally pulled up, he felt nothing but relief as Camille began to fall asleep on his shoulder, her heavy lids shutting and her breathing slowing. 

For those 4 minutes they were in the car, everything was absolutely peaceful. Harry didn't have to answer questions anymore, and he didn't have to explain anything. He just had to sit there and relax, leaving behind his issues for another day, another morrow. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Camille, do you have a roommate or something, seriously? Someone to stay with you tonight?" Harry asked, anxiously. They were back in Camille's dorm now, a large double with a walk in closet, where Camille had taken a permanent position beside the toilet. 

"No, Kassie doesn't arrive until.... tomorrow... or Monday," she answered, her voice raspy, raw almost. 

Harry shook his head and watched in terror from the edge of the bath tub as Camille positioned herself above the toilet and vomited for the sixth time in an hour. No matter how many times he saw it happen, it was still just as disgusting as the first time. But at least it wasn't on his shirt anymore. 

Stroking the Rolling Stone's tank top Camille had lent him, Harry decided the best thing to do would be to spend the night with her. Grabbing a pillow and blankets from the bedroom, Harry made himself a makeshift bed in the bath-tub, trying his hardest not to think of how it probably hadn't been cleaned since May (it was August). 

"I'm right here next to you. Let me know if you need anything, okay?" Harry said, getting comfortable beneath the powder blue covers. 

Camille nodded, her head weakly rising from where it was situated against the toilet seat.

"Thank you Harry," she croaked. "You didn't have to do this." 

Harry shrugged. "It's quite alright," he replied, his eyes nearly fluttering closed. "That's what friends are for."


	5. Roommates

Camille woke up the next morning to find herself on top of Harry, nuzzled tightly against his chest and covered in blankets. Cuddling him more closely, she began to take in his body, beautiful and blissful atop the makeshift bathtub bed. Sighing, she breathed in the soft scent of his cologne and grazed the hard muscle of his torso with her fingers. If she paid close attention, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the beating of his heart. And suddenly, lying there with Harry, everything felt so perfect. So peaceful. So serene.

Unfortunately, as Camille began to gain consciousnesses and the memories came flooding back, she realized that last night had been anything but serene. In fact, the whole night had been rather disgusting and chaotic on her end. Right now, she wasn't lying on Harry's chest because they had slept together; she was lying there because after several hours worth of vomiting and subsequently passing out on the bathroom floor, she woke up and crawled into the bathtub with Harry, collapsing onto his chest without even brushing her teeth. Harry, in turn, had hardly even stirred in response. In fact, he probably didn't even know she was sleeping with him right now

Face flushing red, Camille held her breath and tried to combat the panic that was now setting in. She began to contemplate whether she should stay put or try to get up without waking Harry. As badly as she craved his skin, she knew this was not the proper way to get his attention and that he would probably panic if he woke up to her sleeping on his chest.

Before Camille could come to a concrete decision, however, Harry's green eyes flew open and the two came face to face, Camille's arms still caressing Harry's pectoral muscles.

"I.... um... hi?" Harry stammered, jolting upward and nearly hitting his head on the bathtub wall. "Feeling better now are we?"

Camille watched in horror as Harry recoiled from her touch, swiftly sitting upright so that her hands could no longer grasp his chest. His face was twisted into a polite smile, but she could tell it was anything but genuine. And as hazy and distorted her memory of last night was, she could certainly remember him reacting to her touch in this very fashion multiple times throughout the party.

Rejection.

Nodding slowly, Camille sat up as well, climbing out of the bath tub and sitting on the closed lid of the toilet bowl. Her head was still foggy, but suddenly everything made sense: Harry wasn't interested in her. And she had to respect that... at least for now. 

"Yeah, better," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. "Thanks for staying the night. Sorry for... sleeping on top of you..."

Harry shook his head, climbing out of the tub and sitting on the edge. His messy bed head caused his hair to stick up a little in the back, and purple circles lined his emerald eyes, creating an oddly satisfying color contrast upon his face.

"That's good to hear," Harry replied, nodding a bit, as if in encouragement. "No worries. I wanted to make sure you were okay. And it's fine that you slept in the tub with me. I took your blankets after all."

Camille laughed quietly, but her face remained dark, emotionless. "That you did," she said with a shrug.

Harry nodded, and began to get up. "Well, really sorry, Camille, but I have to get going. My roommate's moving in this morning and I promised I'd help him," Harry lied. It wasn't entirely untruthful... his roommate really was moving in today, but not in the morning. If he was being honest, he really just needed to get out of this sour smelling bathroom and take a shower. 

"Of course. Thanks again," Camille said with a small smile. She followed him to the door, only to find Harry jumping back in horror at the puddle of vomit next to the entryway. It was going to be really difficult for her to come back from this. 

"Oh, god. I'm so sorry. I'm disgusting. You must think so lowly of me... A junior and I can't even hold my liquor," Camille stammered, tears forming in the corners of her sapphire eyes. Harry could see that she was emotional, and didn't want to be insensitive. But the truth was that Camille was reckless, and that the vomiting wasn't so much the result of drinking too much as it was mixing the wrong pills with alcohol. 

And he hardly felt sorry for her for that.

"No. I don't. I had a great time with you tonight. It was great," Harry assured her, though the queasy feeling in his stomach worsened the longer he stood in the doorway. "Everyone gets sick. Don't worry about it." 

Camille nodded, her eyes meeting Harry's for a brief moment. They could both sense each other's guilt: hers for her recklessness, his for being fake. It was an unspoken conversation, that could only be read through body language, which at the moment was much more truthful than the words coming from their mouths. 

"Well, I should go. See you around, Camille," Harry said, breaking the eye contact and jumping over the puddle of puke. He opened the door and stepped into the hallway. "Feel better!" he called over his shoulder. 

"Thanks," Camille replied. Then she shut the door and collapsed into a weeping heap on her bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's nice to meet you mate!" Harry said, jumping up out of bed and going to greet his roommate Niall, a brunette Irishman who studied chemistry. Harry felt embarrassed for not changing out of his pajamas. After he left Camille's, bright and early at 9am, he returned to his dorm, where he showered, grabbed a Gatorade from the vending machine, and went back to bed to sleep off his hangover. 

His plan was to wake up at 2pm to tidy up and get ready for Niall, who was coming at 3pm. But he must've slept through his alarm, because now here he was in the Rolling Stone's tank top and a pair of basketball shorts from middle school, that were now three lengths too short. 

"Morning, sleepy head!" Niall said laughing and setting down his bag. He had a great smile, bright white teeth and shining blue eyes that made him look like one of the wholesome college students who modelled the campus brochures. 

"Oh, god, yeah sorry for oversleeping," Harry said, his face reddening as he leaned towards Niall to give him a handshake. To Harry's surprise, Niall gripped his hand firmly and gave him a strong pat on the back. Niall was much more petite than Harry, but it seemed like he was pretty athletic and built, like he could hold his own in a fight. 

Harry, on the other hand, was much taller and had broader shoulders, but he wouldn't hurt a fly. Fighting had never been his strong suit, and he preferred to settle things over a cup of tea, not a face-smashing fist fight. It was just the English way. He didn't have that type of Irish fury.

"No worries, mate. Fun night out?" Niall questioned as he walked around to inspect the room. It was rather spacious, as juniors got access to the higher quality rooms. 

In terms of furniture, Harry and Niall each had their own closet, bed, a dresser and a bookshelf, which had been arranged on each side of the room. They also had their own bathroom, which was great, as Niall didn't have one last year and had to use the grimy communal hall restroom. He was still scarred from the number of hairballs he'd seen in the shower.

"So, you've been at U Chicago the whole time?" Harry asked. He felt sort of insecure about being a transfer student -- like it had a bad rep or something. Truthfully, he had wanted to study in Chicago as a first year, but didn't get in, which is why he re-applied later on during his second year. 

"Yeah, I have. I went to high school in the states too for my last two years," Niall said, inspecting the dresser drawers. "I guess I'm pretty Americanized now. You know, bruh? Like I love getting lit!!" 

Harry laughed as Niall faked the American frat bro accent, which was pretty dead on in his opinion. But his face quickly fell as he began to think of Louis, the most recent frat boy he had met, and currently the biggest source of his troubles. 

"That's cool. I'm a transfer. Studied in Newcastle my first two years," he admitted, trying desperately to shake the images of Louis dancing that were now forming in his mind. 

"That's proper cool, mate. My sister studied there for undergrad. She loved it," Niall said with a smile. 

Harry nodded. He was starting to feel a bit more comfortable, like maybe it wasn't such a huge deal that he had transferred after all. 

"So what do you study?" Niall asked, taking a seat on his bed, which was currently an undressed mattress. 

"Oh, I study maths," Harry said, blushing again. "I'm a bit of a nerd."

"Nah. Chemistry is nerdy too. I'm actually talking a maths course this semester. What class are you doing?" Niall asked. 

"Math 1200," Harry said a bit skeptically. At his old uni, they didn't have course numbers like that. Just module names. 

"Oh, yeah, me too! With Goldstein, right?" Niall said, jumping up in excitement. When Harry nodded, he gave him another slap on the back, something which Harry very quickly learned was Niall's common response to good news.

"So much in common already!" Niall gushed. 

Harry nodded. "I guess so! Wow, you Irish sure are a giddy bunch," he giggled, letting his guard down a little. He was always polite with strangers, but once he got to know someone he could be a real sarcastic fucker. 

"That we are," Niall said. His face lit up and he ran to his suitcase, pulling out an Irish flag. "Where should I hang this?" he asked, laughing. 

Harry shook his head and ran to his closet, pulling out his own British flag, which was much smaller than Niall's, but still pretty sizable. 

"I don't know... where I should put this?" Harry asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he smirked. 

"Up your arse!" Niall said. He jumped onto his mattress and catapulted himself towards the wall, nearly smashing into it as he pressed the corners of the flag onto the wall above his bed. 

"Well, I'll just stick mine out the window. Show it off to campus, mark my territory," Harry said, jogging to the window on the far side of the wall. He was just about there when he was quite nearly tackled by Niall, who now sat on top of him and was trying to rip the flag from his hands. 

"Oh my god, you wanker!" Harry screamed. 

The two boys burst out laughing hysterically and Niall hopped off of Harry's back, allowing him to sit up. 

"I'm fucking joking, you wank," Niall said between laughs. "We can hang them both. My flag's bigger anyways." 

Harry rolled his eyes. "Barely, plus the U.K. is bigger in real life." 

Niall shook his head, folding his arms over his chest. "You are one funny guy, Styles," he said, nearly snorting from laughter. 

"As are you," Harry replied. 

"Great. Now do me a favor and don't try to steal my maths 1200 homework the way your people did with our land," Niall quipped. Harry jumped up and collapsed onto his bed, unable to stop laughing. His country did have a reputation for taking over terrorities, including Northern Ireland, which had not gone well. 

"No more history jokes, Horan," he said when he finally caught his breath. 

"Unlucky for you, I'm a history minor!" Niall retorted, grabbing a thumb tack to hang up his flag. 

"Are you really?" Harry asked, eyes widening. 

"No!" Niall giggled. "But I did take women's history 101 my first year just to be in a class with all the cute girls." 

Harry shook his head, grabbing some tacks of his own to hang his flag. By the looks of it, this was going to be a fun semester. 

A/N: I live for Narry bromance fluff. I hope y'all do too!


	6. First Day

"Fuck, do you know where the Wilson building is? I have class in there at 10," Harry called to Niall as he threw on a shirt. Harry had woken up at 9:30am and he was just getting ready now, which meant he was probably going to be late.

"Yeah, mate, that's like across campus. 15 minutes at least. You have to go past the main green and then turn on 13th Street," Niall yelled from the shower.

"Thanks, mate," Harry replied enthusiastically, though his stomach was flip flopping over the first day of classes. He knew that they would probably be playing 'get to know you games' or 'icebreakers' or whatever the Americans call those stupid introductory activities. Harry wasn't one to socialize unless he had to, and he wasn't in the mood to share 'fun facts' about his life in England or have students ogle at him because of his accent.

Tugging on a pair of black jeans and grey vans, Harry shoved a notebook and some pens into his backpack and grabbed a granola bar. There was no time for breakfast today -- or a shower. Running a finger through his hair, which was almost reaching his shoulders these days, he sighed and started to head out the door.

"Bye, Niall!" he called behind him.

"Bye, mate. Good luck," Niall replied.

Once outside the dorm, Harry headed down the dismal grey hallway -- the same one he had walked down with Camille -- and out the exit. Harry cringed a bit as he thought about Camille. She had texted him a few times yesterday, but he didn't answer her. He would eventually, but he was still so spooked over the whole vomiting incident, that he sort of wanted to lay low for a while.

Camille was the wild child type, and something told Harry that the more time he spent with her, the more he would experience nights like the one at Zete, with colorful pills and too much alcohol. Not to mention, all the glittery bodies.

Fuck. Glittery bodies.

Stepping outside, Harry blinked in the sunlight and tried to get the image of Louis' table dancing out of his head. Today was a big day and he didn't have time for distractions like that. No, he needed to focus on maths and making friends and joining clubs. Maybe even getting an internship. You know, normal uni student concerns. He certainly didn't need to worry about Louis, some boy from a random party who he would probably never see again.

Harry turned right and headed down the sidewalk that led to the main green, staring at the mass of students now surrounding him, rushing hurriedly to class with their books and backpacks in tow.

Sometimes Harry wished he didn't have to go to uni. There were so many people and so little personal space, and Harry really enjoyed his privacy, preferring a quiet cafe or time alone in his room to a bustling student center any day.

He was on the green now, where large, modern looking buildings towered over the green space in the middle of the campus. Most of those were liberal arts buildings, like the languages building, a black eight-story building on the left, and the literature building, a silver four story on the right. Crowded behind the two was the theatre building, a small one story building that seemed more like a co-op than anything else.

Harry glanced at his phone to check the time. It was was 9:50am now, fuck. No time to look at buildings! Harry picked up his pace, quickly shoving his phone back into his pocket.

He had noticed a text from Camille which read "Do you have class today?" as he was putting it away. Harry rolled his eyes. Of course he had class today. What kind of question was that?

Ten minutes later, Harry found his way up the hill and down 13th street, where he located the shiny green building that said "University of Chicago: Mathematics Department" on the front. He jogged inside, pulling up his schedule on his phone to double check the room number - 212- and hiked up the stairs to the second floor in search of his classroom.

When he finally got inside, it was 10:03, which he didn't think was that bad. But he walked inside only to find that all of the students and the professor were already in class, and he was met with judgmental stares and snickers.

Blushing, Harry scanned the room for an empty seat. There was nothing in sight though, so he headed to the back of the room and took a seat on the floor.

"As you know, this class is already over-filled. So there's not enough seats," the professor, a bald-headed man in his 50s bellowed, making direct eyecontact with Harry. "If you're not registered, I kindly ask you to leave as I won't be giving out any more spots this term."

A handful of kids nodded and rose from their seats, taking their backpacks with them. Harry looked around nervously before heading over to one of the empty seats. He felt sort of bad for those students who weren't registered. In England, the professors sometimes closed off registration, but given that there were only 4 or 5 of them, the professor would probably have made an exception.

Regardless, Harry had a spot in the class and that's all that mattered. He watched intently as the professor began to start his PowerPoint about the course schedule and lecture expectations.

Just as he was getting immersed in the units of imaginary numbers and 3D figures, however, Harry felt a tap on the shoulder, and nearly jolted out of his seat in shock.

He whirled around to find a brunette guy with short hair and a muscle tank top staring at him. Harry stared back, wondering where he knew him from, and then nearly turned white.

It was one of the guys from the party. One of the dancers. What was his name? Lance? Liam! Fuck. Harry's heart began to beat quickly and he lowered his eyes, turning back around in his seat.

But then he felt a tap again.

"Lad, take the syllabi!" Liam said in a loud whisper.

Harry twisted back around, suddenly relieved that Liam didn't recognize him. "Sorry, mate. Thanks," he replied, grabbing the papers. He grabbed one hastily, nearly cutting himself on the paper, and then handed the rest off to the person next to him.

Unfortunately, he wasn't off the hook that easy.

Liam tapped him again, and this time Harry froze in place, terrified, and didn't respond.

"Lad. I remember you from the other night. Harry, right? Camille's friend," Liam whispered, leaning forward towards Harry. "I didn't know you studied maths. I've never seen you in my maths courses."

Harry nodded, turning slightly but refusing to meet Liam's gaze.

"Yeah, I study maths. I'm third year but I transferred from Newcastle. I'm new," Harry replied. Maybe if he responded Liam would leave him alone.

"Makes sense," Liam nodded. "This Professor is a total wanker."

Harry started to laugh nervously, half hoping the professor hadn't heard Liam and half hoping he did. He started to wonder why he was so nervous. Liam was just being friendly, wasn't he?

"Good to know," Harry whispered. Liam nodded and then returned his eyes to his books, jotting down the exam dates the professor was currently reading off. Harry did the same.

When class finally let out an hour later, Liam and Harry walked out together, chatting about the class and maths at U Chicago.

"It's a great department, really is. Tough classes, but they offer the best in the country," Liam said, excitedly. "Better than England for sure."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, in Newcastle I had to teach myself so much. The professors were useless," he replied rolling his eyes as they made their way down the stairs. "Where are you headed next?" 

"Theatre," Liam said with a roll of the eyes. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love to dance, as you know. But I can't sing for my life, at least not in public. I'm only doing it because my mate is TAing the course. You remember Louis, right?"

Harry blushed, nearly choking on the water he was drinking. "Yeah, I remember him," he said weakly. "Seemed nice. I'm doing art history for my arts elective. Theatre is not for me."

Liam shook his head, his eyes widening. "No way, mate! You have to switch," he said in a panicked tone. "Art history is super hard. Look at the reviews online if you don't believe me. Theatre is an Easy A. So is visual arts."

Harry felt his heart beating faster, his palms growing sweaty. He thought art history would be easy. His friends at uni were studying it and they hardly ever had any homework. Could it really be difficult? He certainly didn't have time for a course-intensive elective.

"How much time do I have to switch?" Harry asked, following Liam out the building exit.

"Two weeks. So next Friday," he said with a shrug. "You can always go check it out and see. If you don't like it, go on the course list and find another one. But I recommend doing theatre. All you have to do is show up. Plus Lou is amazing at what he does."

Harry nodded, his pouty lips spreading into a forced smile. "I'm sure he is. Well thanks for letting me know, Liam. I appreciate the heads up," Harry replied. "Listen, I'm headed this way. But I'll see you in class Wednesday."

"See ya!" Liam shouted. Then he turned back around towards Harry. "Wait, lad. Payne. Liam Payne, with a y and an e. Add me on Facebook."

"Will do!" Harry said over his shoulder. He was speedwalking away now, his vans squeaking against the pavement. Get me out of here, he thought.

Liam headed down the street in the opposite direction, pulling out his phone to check his notifications. He wondered why Harry had been acting so strange. Maybe it was just first-day nerves. After all, he was a transfer student in a brand new school in a foreign country. But maybe it was something more than that...

A few minutes later, after stopping at Starbucks, Liam strolled into the theatre building, still 7 minutes early.

"Hey!" Liam called to Louis, jogging down the aisle and towards the stage. "Got you your favorite. Skinny iced vanilla latee with cinnamon."

Louis grabbed it, licking his lips in excitement. His hair was swept to the side, a light layer of black eyeliner sweeping his waterline, and he wore denim cutoffs with a pink tank top.

"Thanks, Li. Perks of being Zete president, am I right?" he said with a chuckle.

"Oh, fuck off wanker, I'm just being a good mate," Liam said, shaking his head.

"I don't know. You and I both know you want me to pick you as prez next year," Louis said, giving Louis a dramatically suspicious look as he took a sip. "Fuck that's damn good Payno. Just the right amount of cinnamon."

"Thanks," Liam replied with a satisfied smile. "And fucking drop it, Louis. I don't want that spot."

"Sure," Louis said, taking a seat on the stage and swinging his legs slightly. Students were starting to pile into the auditorium now, but there were still 3 minutes until class officially started, and he usually made the most of them.

"So how was class?" he asked Liam, who was downing his own coffee drink, a cold brew with a splash of milk.

"Good, actually. I mean the professor is a total dickhead. Had him last term. But Harry was in my class. You know, from the party? He studies maths," Liam said excitedly. Most of the maths students in third year were so boring and straight edge, so he was thrilled to have someone laid back that he could talk to in class.

"Harry," Louis said, a curious look spreading across his face. He smirked a bit, locking his blue eyes with Liam's brown ones. "We figure him out yet? I asked Camille, but her gay-dar is horrendous. I'm betting on bi."

Liam shrugged. He hadn't really thought about it. Harry seemed pretty elusive to him, like he could be into either gender. But he did remember how Harry nearly spit his drink all over himself when he mentioned Louis. And Louis was a looker.

"I'm going with bi too. He seems to fancy you," Liam said with a wink. He was grabbing his backpack now, turning to take a seat with the rest of the students.

"Who doesn't fancy me?" Louis said with a roll of the eyes.

Liam shook his head. "You cocky, bastard," he chuckled.

"That's my name," Louis replied, giggling. "Now let's get this party started." Tossing his now empty drink on the ground, he swung his legs up onto the stage and ran to the center.

"Alright. It's 10:30 now, so get your ass in a chair and listen up. I'm Louis Tomlinson, fourth year theatre student, lead role in the last three school musical productions, former Broadway intern.... the list goes on, honey," he said excitedly. His hands were on his hips now, and he was pacing back and forth on the stage, strutting really.

"And before you make a comment, yes this is a real BRITISH accent. I'm from Doncaster. It's a real place in England. Look it up," he said with a role of the eyes as he watched a student raise their hand. They quickly put it down, and he snickered, revelling in his power. 

"Anyways, I'm going to be your TA for the semester, assisting Professor Briggs, who will be coming in to lecture every other Wednesday," he continued. "And I'll say, if we do things right, this semester is going to be a kick ass time.... Now let's get the fuck to it, estudiantes. Someone get up here on stage with me to read lines. We're doing Cervantes today!"

Liam tried not to burst at laughing as he watched his friend make this flamboyant speech, littered in curse words and unprofessional comments. Louis always bragged about cursing and saying whatever he wanted in front of his students, but he and Zayn had always thought he was exaggerating.

Apparently not.

Lucky not to be picked, Liam watched in amusement as a nervous looking brunette girl made her way to the stage, upon Louis' request, and began to shakily read lines.

Damn, Liam thought, pulling out his phone to text Zayn. This is going to be fucking hilarious.


	7. Crazy

After attending his art history class and grabbing lunch in the cafe -- a turkey and cheese wrap with crisps and a salad -- he returned home to his dorm, tired from waking up early and ready to take a nap. 

"Hey, how were classes?" Niall asked as Harry made his way through the door. Niall was in bed, already getting a head start on a nap of his own, though the noise of Harry's arrival probably woke him up. 

"Oh, hey, Ni. Sorry were you sleeping?" Harry asked quickly, setting his bag down on the floor. 

"I was napping, but I'm just about ready to get up now. No worries. Sometimes, I swear you Brits are TOO polite," Niall giggled, sitting up and turning a light on. "So how was it?"

"Yeah, it was good. Maths wasn't bad. The professor is kind of a hard ass but the course seems interesting. And I ran into this guy I met earlier with Camille at a party. He was friendly," Harry said with a half smile. 

"That's good," Niall replied as he grabbed a Coke from the mini fridge in the center of Yethe room. "It's always good to know someone in class. Buddy up early, in case you ever miss class and need notes, or need help with the problem sets. I have Billy from organic chem, Grace from chemical biology, and Harry from maths."

Harry rolled his eyes, jumping onto his bed and lying down. "Harry from maths certainly won't be giving you notes, you bugger," he replied with a laugh. "Not unless you let me in the shower next time. I went to class greasy this morning." 

"Wake up earlier then," Niall replied. But Harry knew he was joking, and both boys started to laugh, Niall coming over to Harry and (once again) slapping him on the back. 

"I'm kidding, mate," Niall said between laughs. "I didn't know you needed it. I thought you showered last night."

"I did! But I need one in the morning and one at night. How else do you think I look this good?" Harry replied, running his hands through his hair seductively.

"You really are something else," Niall replied, opening his laptop and browsing through Netflix. Normally, he started his problem set after his nap, but there wasn't any homework on the first day of classes, so he actually had some free time to just relax. 

"Thanks," Harry replied. He took out his own laptop and began to scroll through Facebook, taking Niall's advice and friending Liam in case he ever needed notes or homework help. Liam Pain? Harry tried typing it in, but nothing came up. On second thought, hadn't he said it was spelled differently? With a Y? Harry tried that. Liam Payn.... There he was! There was also an e at the end. 

Excited that he found him, Harry clicked "request friend" next to Liam's name. He was about to go back to his news feed when he took a second look at Liam's profile photo more closely. It was a picture of him and another guy. He looked awfully familiar. Fuck, was that Louis? 

Harry clicked on it to get a better look. It was Louis after all! Oh my god, it was photo of Liam and Louis, with Louis kissing Liam on the cheek. Not only that, but they were both covered in glitter and shirtless...Oh no. Fuck. It was from that night at Zete. The date was even the same: August 28th, 2017. 

Fuck.

Harry looked at the photo again, blinking. Louis was sort of holding Liam in a headlock while kissing him, and Liam's eyes were all squinted up and he was smiling, sort of like those photos that girls take kissing their best friend on the cheek. But was it platonic? Or did it mean something else? It seemed pretty clear that Liam and Zayn were together, based on the way Liam had said 'hands off my man' to Camille and the way the two danced together on the table. They had so much chemistry. But maybe they had an open relationship? 

Harry looked at the caption for more insight, cringing when he saw that it read 'he's so cute, isn't he?' 

What. the. actual. fuck. 

Harry probably should have closed his laptop then and there, but he realized that Louis had been tagged, and he just couldn't resist probing further. He clicked on the name, Louis William Tomlinson. William? Typical of him to include his middle name. He seemed like the type. 

Cringing, Harry clicked on Louis' profile. It was a photo of Louis, dressed in Shakespearean clothing, with green tights and a big puffy shirt and everything. He was on stage at some sort of play, and seemed to be looking directly into the camera as he spoke, his pouty smirk just barely visible, but still there, staring Harry in the face. His big blue eyes were shining beneath the theatre lights, and his stubble danced upon his jawline and above his lips, almost inviting Harry to stare there. He couldn't look away. 

On the bottom of the page, caption said: "The sexiest Romeo you'll ever meet!" and beneath it were a series of comments from girls and guys alike, saying things like "I love you Louis!" "Congrats!" and "what a great show!" 

But then of course, there was one from Liam, with a winky face. Louis hadn't responded to it, but he did like it, which made Harry's stomach twist in knots. 

"Harry?! What the fuck are you doing?" he heard Niall shouting. "I just called your name three times. Are you watching porn?"

Harry shook his head, staring up at Niall in a panic and slamming the laptop shut. "No, um. Sorry I was sending an email," he stammered, his face flushing red. 

"Someone's at the door, mate," Niall said. He gave Harry a curious look, wondering what the fuck his roommate had actually been doing on the computer. He hadn't heard any typing.

Harry jumped up to answer the door, nearly tripping on the mini fridge in the process. 

He didn't know who he expected to be at the door, but when he opened it, he nearly stumbled backwards. 

It was Camille. 

"Hey," she said. She looked up at Harry with her big blue eyes and long lashes. Her hair was pulled into a tiny pony tail today, loose wisps falling into her eyes. 

"Hey. Sorry I didn't get a chance to answer your texts. I've just been nervous with school and all..." Harry rambled, desperately trying to cover himself. 

"It's alright," Camille said. "I knew you were probably freaked out from this weekend. I wanted to apologize. So I brought you this." She held up a bottle of Prosecco, handing it to Harry, who nearly dropped it on the tile floor. 

"Thank you," he replied, putting on his best smile. He wasn't sure how giving him more alcohol would help him forget about a night spent watching someone puke from alcohol poisoning, but he supposed Camille considered it a thoughtful gesture, and so he accepted. 

"Can I come in?" Camille asked, peaking behind Harry's back and looking into the dorm. 

"Sure, um. Niall, my roommate is here," Harry said, stepping aside and allowing Camille into the room. 

"Hello. Nice to meet you," Niall said. He walked over to Camille and shook her hand politely. Camille smiled and said hello back, though Harry could already see how captivated she was by Niall, whose biceps were bulging through his tight-fitting T-shirt. 

"So!" Camille said, taking a seat on Harry's bed. She was wearing a pink sundress with white polka dots on it, a change of pace from her going out attire a few nights prior. "You guys will not believe what I just found out." 

Harry took a seat on his bed too, though several feet away from Camille. "What?" he asked, though all he was curious about right now was when she was leaving. 

"So my sorority, Theta, is having a rager on Wednedsay!" she squealed, scrolling through her phone and pulling up a flyer. She handed the phone to Harry, and he began to skim the flyer, which was a photo of scantily clad girls dressed up in rainbow colors. 'Theta Presents Rainbow Wednesday, at Zete House. 10pm - 3am Wednesday. 3$ tickets, free drinks.' 

"Can I see?" Niall asked, taking the phone from Harry. "Oh this looks super sick, Camille. Will you be performing?" 

Harry swallowed thickly, trying to imagine returning to Zete -- this time not to see Louis dance, but to see Camille. 

"Yeah, and I'll be giving the Zete boys a run for their money. The whole reason we're having it there is because sorority's can't host parties. But the boys will just be chilling, while we run the show," Camille said. A near diabolical smile spread across her lips, as she began to envision Harry -- and now Niall -- watching her dance. Maybe she did have a shot after all. If not, she just lost out on a bottle of Prosecco. 

"We'll stop by, right Haz?" Niall said, handing the phone back to Camille. 

"Will we?" Harry asked, his voice rising. "We have maths the next morning."

"Not until 11am," Niall replied with a smirk. "That's plenty of time."

Harry nodded, trying his best not to look suspicious. "Pffff... Yeah. Of course," Harry said, rolling his eyes. Camille nodded eagerly at Harry, their eyes meeting briefly before Harry pulled his away. 

"Awesome then! I'm so glad you'll both be there," she squealed jumping up and jogging towards the door. "Anways, got to run. We have rehearsal tonight. Gonna learn how to do a body roll while doing body shots!" 

Harry and Niall looked at each other, eyebrows raised, nearly laughing.

"Bye, Camille!" Harry called, following behind her. As soon as she left, he slammed the door shut and locked it. 

"What a freak. She just shows up out of nowhere!" Harry said, shaking his head and heading back to his bed. 

"They don't call her Crazy Camille for nothing. How do you know her?" Niall asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Is it really? Wow..." Harry said, laughing a bit. That made total sense. Suited her perfectly. 

"A friend of mine from England knows her well. He told me to meet up with her so I'd have a friend on campus and she could give me a tour," Harry explained. "I didn't know she would be this crazy. I spent the whole first night making sure she didn't choke on her vomit. She had so many pills, so much to drink. Out of control, truly. And something tells me it wasn't a first time thing... she parties like a fucking fresher."

Niall shook his head. "You don't know the half of it mate. She's also a man eater. Absolutely crazy for guys like you and me. No wonder she showed up her with alcohol. She's after you. Better watch out," he replied. He took another sip of his coke and opened up "Fresh Meat" on Netflix. 

"I am watching out! I want nothing to do with her, Ni," Harry cried, folding his arms across his chest. "Why did you agree to go to the party?" 

"Why wouldn't I? She'll be so busy with her sorority she won't be able to do anything. Besides, I want to go to see Melissa," Niall replied. He blushed a bit as he mentioned the name of his crush, a girl he had shared a few hookups with last semester, but never worked up the courage to get serious with. 

"Melissa, eh? Is she pretty?" Harry inquired.

"Very. Brunette with big blue eyes. American, but not with that valley girl bullshit accent. And she's smart. Studies physics," Niall said with a shy smile. This was the first time he was opening up to Harry about his love life, and he wasn't sure how he felt. 

"Is there anyone you fancy, Harry?" Niall asked. The episode began to play now, the theme song music ringing loudly through the dorm. 

"Eh. I mean, no, I don't know. Some cute girls at the Zete thing, but Camille got me too plastered to talk to any of them," Harry replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He didn't dare mention Louis, or the fact that he might possibly be interested in guys. He could hardly explain it to himself, let alone his roommate who he just met yesterday. 

"Crazy Camille. You better shake her, Harry," Niall replied, shaking his head. "Otherwise, we're going to need a chain lock for this dorm. The girl's a stalker!" 

Harry and Niall both laughed, thinking about how blunt and rude Camille was -- especially for an English girl. Then, the show began to start, and both of them quieted down, taking in the vulgar comedic scenes of the crazy Manchester uni students on their screen.


	8. Preparation

"I am so bloody sick of letting the Theta girls host their parties here," Liam whined, mixing everclear into a bowl of Kool Aid. "They always make a mess and they only invite straight boys. It's no fun."

"I quite enjoy ogling the straight boys," Louis said with a giggle. "And watch what you're doing with that everclear. You'll poison us all if the ratios not right. Remember what happened last time, Zayn?"

"Oh fuck off. It wasn't labeled and I thought it was vodka," Zayn replied, rolling his eyes. "And I cleaned up all the puke!"

Louis jumped down from where he was sitting on the table and slapped Zayn on the back. "I'm kidding, you fucker. That was a while ago, too. Before you and Liam were.... a thing...." Louis said with a snarky smile, carefully eyeing the two boys' reaction.

Laughing, Zayn grabbed Liam's waist from behind, nearly causing him to spill the punch everywhere, and kissed his neck. "Happy almost one year, babe," Zayn cooed. "Thanks Louis, the perfect matchmaker."

"I try!" Louis said, kicking his leg up dramatically. He readjusted his leather vest and winked at Zayn, who was now nibbling Liam's ear.

"Babe, okay, okay," Liam said, kissing Zayn on the lips and returning to the punch. "Gotta finish this love, stop getting me hard. Well fuck later."

Louis started snickering and grabbed a cup to try out the punch, his face instantly twisting into a sour expression. "Fuck, this is strong. Like rubbing alcohol, needs more punch!" he instructed. Though Louis never did any of the real labor, he loved bossing people around. It was what he was best at— it's why he was Zete president after all.

"Coming right up," Zayn said, pouring more red Kool Aid into the punch bowl. "Try it now."

Louis raised an eyebrow and took another cupful of the concoction, coughing a bit as it went down. "Tolerable," he said, crumpling the cup in his hand. "Good enough."

"So Styles is gonna be there, Lou," Liam said excitedly as he made his way to the kitchen. "Talked to him in maths this morning. Said he got the invite through Kassie, and he's bringing his roommate along. Irishman. Have you heard of Niall Horan?"

"I have!" Zayn squeaked excitedly. "He's all over my friend Melissa. He's definitely trying to snag her tonight. Poor bloke. I don't think she's interested."

"Well that's nothing a little punch can't fix, now is it?" Louis replied sassily, pointing at the punch bowl.

"Louis! Consent is cool," Liam cried, smacking his bum.

"I was joking. Fuck, that hurt, Liam!" Louis retorted as he slapped Liam back, this time on the shoulder. "That's my best asset, mate. Precious cargo."

"Knock it off you two," Zayn said, rolling his eyes. Sometimes Louis and Liam could be so immature together, and though he wouldn't admit it, it really made him jealous. Especially because Liam and Louis used to sleep together before Zayn met them. Though their friends with benefits relationship was long over now, Liam and Louis were still super close friends, with a long history, and sometimes Zayn couldn't help but feel left out.

"So back to Styles," Liam said, grabbing a coke from the fridge. "Are you gonna make moves? He's so interested, mate. Face got all red when I told him you'd be there."

"Oh did it, now," Louis said, his eyebrows wiggling. "Classic reaction for most fellows, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh, of courseeee. But I don't think he's out yet though," Zayn said, raising a brow. "Do you?"

"Out or not, I'll give him a taste if he's up for it," Louis said with a shrug. "But I'm not about to chase after him. I want Styles to come to me."

"Well he very well might!" Liam said excitedly. "He's seriously considering taking your course. He hated art history. Figures."

"No he's not!" Louis shouted, his face lighting up excitedly. "This is bloody hilarious. If he's not out now, he will be by the end of the course".

"Oh, knock it off, Lou. Get to know the lad first," Zayn said, getting a little defensive. He remembered how hard it was for him to come out of closet. Only a year ago, when he joined Zete, he was still seriously questioning his bisexuality, and even now, he still hadn't told most of his family.

"I'm joking, lads. Styles is an anomaly. We'll just have to see where the night takes us," Louis said with a curious smile. "Though I'm betting it'll be to my bedroom!!"

Liam and Zayn both rolled their eyes at Louis, who was now hip thrusting in the middle of the kitchen. Classic Lou.

"Alright, well if you don't mind, Liam and I have some thrusting of our own to do, now don't we?" Zayn said, draping an arm around Liam's waist.

"Yes we do!" Liam replied. He scooped up Zayn bridal style and made his way to the bedroom. "Louis, have fun air humping an imaginary Styles!"

"I will!" Louis called back. Though the minute the two were out of sight, he immediately stopped, taking out his phone to Text Camille.

'Wanna help wing woman tonight?' he typed. 'I've got a real craving for a tall brunette with a questionable sexuality.' 

Then he tossed his phone on the sofa, taking another cup of punch. Starting early was his forte, and tonight he would surely need it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Harry, stop it. You look fine," Niall called to Harry from the bathroom. Harry was currently sitting on top of a pile of clothes, and after having gone through nearly 10 outfits, he still didn't know what to wear.

"Haz, that looks fine. I like the tan shorts with the vans. Plus that purple T-shirt looks quite dapper," Niall said, coming out of the bathroom. He hardly knew anything about fashion - he was currently wearing jeans and a white T-shirt - but he figured if he sounded convincing enough, Harry would believe him.

"Okay," Harry grumbled, crossing his arms and digging his wallet out from under the mound of clothes. "I like your outfit too."

"Thanks mate. I hope Melissa likes it. I'm so nervous," Niall admitted, spraying on an athletic looking bottle of cologne. Harry flinched backwards, trying not to get caught in the mist. He absolutely hated the smell of Axe and didn't want it mixing with his Calvin Klein floral scent.

"She will. Don't worry," Harry said, checking his hair in the mirror. "Want to do a few shots before we go? To loosen up?"

Niall nodded, a smile creeping across his face. "I like the way you think. Just like an Irishman," Niall said with a laugh. Harry nodded along, though the shots were really more for him than they were for Niall. He felt like he was going to pass out from nervousness just thinking about Having to see Louis again, and he needed something to take the edge off.

Niall grabbed a bottle of silver tequila out of his bottom drawer, and poured two shots on top of the dresser. "Cheers!" he said. Niall and Harry clinked their shot glasses together, throwing their heads back in unison and downing the bitter liquid.

"That was quite smooth!" Harry said, excitedly, remembering the awful burning feeling the Fireball had given him only a few nights prior.

"It ain't the cheap stuff that's why. Frat parties buy in bulk. Their drinks are awful. High percentage but low quality," he explained to Harry. Harry shrugged. It made sense. Usually in England, he and his friends would just chug bottles of Prosecco or go to the pub. Here, though, the drinking age was 18 and his 20 year old ass couldn't buy a 9$ bottle of wine at the grocery store let alone go to a bar.

"Alright. Another?" Harry said. He was starting to feel more loosened up, the tequila giving him a boost of energy. He still felt nervous though, and needed a little extra kick.

"Eager, are we?" Niall replied, giggling. He poured another two shots, but this time Harry didn't even wait for Niall— he just drank it.

"My god, that is so bloody rude," Niall cried, downing his own shot and staring at Harry with an exaggerated look of disbelief. "I say, the English man being rude! They should through you in jail. What an injustice."

Harry rolled his eyes, pretending to kick Niall in the shin. "I can be as rude as I want. We're in America, after all. 'Who the fuck you think you're talking to, punk?'" He bellos in an exaggerated New York accent.

"Someone's tipsy already," Niall giggled, watching as Harry twirled around before him. "Maybe that's because we did double shots. Oops. Didn't know your tolerance was so low."

Harry shook his head, his curls bouncing. "This is exactly what I needed, Nialler," he said. "Now let's go!!! Let's get you some Melissa pussy."

"Fuck, please don't say that in public," Niall said, shooting him a dirty look as they stopped out into the hallway. Niall looked the door and then turned to find Harry in the middle of the hallway, dancing.

"Melissa pussy! Melissa pussy!" He chanted.

"There goes my wingman for the night!" Niall replied with an eye roll, though the tequila was starting to kick in for him too, and he had half a mind to join in on the Chant. Melissa pussy did seem like a pretty tasty snack right about now.

"Alright, Alright! Let's go, harry. It's already 11," Niall said, grabbing his roommate, who was now shimmying against someone's door.

"Thank, heavens. I can't wait to see Lou-ee," Harry said, fluttering his eyelids.

Niall gave him a strange look, wrapping his arm around Harry's to keep him from running off. He didn't know what Harry was talking about or who Louis was, but he was going to find out.


	9. Drunk

"Hey, Ni!!! Stop touching me, I'm good," Harry whined as they made their way into the Zete apartment, which was covered in rainbow ribbons, with only minimal glitter this time.

"Okay, harry. Then stop stumbling," Niall said, letting him go. Tripping forward, Harry nearly crashed into a nearby table with punch on it. "Oh my god, yes. It's a dream come true," Harry laughed. "I need more."

"You don't! But I do," Niall said, grabbing the cup from harry and filling it in the punch bowl. "Wooooo! That's a lot of everclear."

"I want evermore!! Gimme," Harry said, pawing at Niall's cup. Niall rolled his eyes and allowed Harry a sip, pulling it away after a couple of seconds. "Save me Some," Niall quipped.

Harry released the cup and looked over at a group of men standing in the corner, talking. It was the Zete guys, and they weren't in their glitter outfits today, but harry could still recognize some of them from the last time he was here.

"Fuck, Niall. Louis is over there," Harry said, his face turning red. "I don't know what to do!"

Niall giggled at Harry, who was now gripping him by the shoulders, his breath smelling of everclear. "I thought you were excited to see him?" Niall asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but scared too. I think I like him," Harry blurted out, covering his mouth the minute he said it.

"Oh," Niall said nodding. "Ohhh.... oh shit. I didn't know that. Okay. Well it's natural to be nervous, don't worry," Niall said. He didn't have any idea that harry was interested in men, but now that he brought it up it made perfect sense. And there was nothing wrong with that in Niall's book. He supported love between any genders.

"Yeah but... I'm not like. I've never been with a guy.... so... oh god. Oh god. I'm freaking you out Niall!" Harry cried, shaking his head wildly. "Fuck. I'm sorry I'm sorry. Too personal."

Niall shook his head, steadying harry by grabbing his shoulders. "Harry, calm down. You're not freaking me out at all. I don't mind hearing about this. You're freaking your self out, Though. So try to calm down," he said, lowering his voice. "Let's go outside for a sec, yeah?"

Harry nodded and followed Niall towards the exit. They were just heading out the door and when Niall felt a hand on his back.

Camille.

"Niall! Harry! My two favorite lads," she squealed, throwing her arms around each boy and bringing them close. Camille was wearing a dress made of an oversized gay flag, with maximum cleavage and minimal material, bright green eyeshadow coating her blue eyes.

"Like my outfit?" She giggled at Niall, who was staring.

"Sure," Niall replied half heartedly. "Good to see you, Camille. Harry and I were just going for a smoke. Need some fresh air." Harry nodded, waving tímidly at Camille. He was getting emotional now and didn't want Crazy Camille to be a witness of it.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Camille asked, turning towards him.

"I'm great," he managed to say, though he stumbled on his words a little.

"Drinking before you got here? I taught you well," Camille giggled, rubbing Harry's shoulder. "Well, enjoy your smoke. I'll be dancing in 20! Can't wait for you to watch us." She winked at the two roommates and then scurried back into the mess of bodies, her body glitter glistening under the strobe lights.

"She's insane," Harry giggled, seeming to forget about his Louis problems for the moment.

"Sure is. I wonder what the dance will be like," Niall replied, hoping this distraction would be enough to calm Harry down. They continued to head out the door and into the hallway, opening a window at the end of the corridor.

Niall took out a cigarette and lit up, aiming his smoke out the window. He handed it to Harry, who stared at him, dumbfounded. "I don't smoke, that's cancer!" Harry bellowed. "Do you have weed?"

Niall laughed and shot harry a look. "I don't but I can ask around. You feeling better?" He asked, leaning back against the wall as he continued to smoke.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. I guess I'm just... afraid of who I am, ya know?" He said. Oh shit, gone was dancing, happy go lucky harry and here was philosophical harry. The different phases of drunkenness at its finest.

"Like... there's this ideal of what you should be. What my mum and dad and friends want. And there's what I am... and they don't match.... and I feel... lost. Like a failure, you know?" Harry said. He stared up at Niall, his big green eyes wide and unblinking.

Niall nodded. "I can't say I've felt that exact way, but yeah. I feel like society has expectations that I can't always meet or follow. And guess what? It's okay. It's alright to be different, Haz. Everyone's gonna except you," Niall assured him. "And guess what, if they don't... fuck em. Because it's 2018 now. No more of that discrimination rubbish."

Harry nodded, his hair falling into his face. He was crying now, his shoulders bobbing up and down as the tears flowed down his cheeks. "That's the most beautiful thing anyone's every said to me," Harry wailed, grabbing Niall in a giant bear hug. He picked him up off he ground and twirled him around like a child or a stuffed animal. Niall was bewildered, and tapped on Harry to let him go.

"Any more spinning and I'll puke my everclear all over you!" He said with a laugh, slapping harry on the back as his feet returned to the ground. "But I'm glad to hear that mate. You're a great roommate, Harry. And a great friend."

"So are you. You're the bestest there ever was. Even better than jimmy with the weed from first year— and he gave me free grams!" Harry giggled, color flushing his cheeks.

"Wow. I must be amazing then," Niall said, putting out his cigarette on the windowsill. "Back inside, yeah?"

Harry nodded and jogged to the door— of course it was the wrong door, so Niall directed him to the correct room where the party was happening. 

Niall and Harry were surprised to find that no one was in the foyer, and that they had all congregated to the main room — the dance room. Oh shit, Camille was up. Her dance had started. Oh well.

The two roommates quietly made their way to the crowd, standing on their tip toes to see the spectacle. Camille was on the center of the table, squatting down low to the ground and shimmying back up, while three of her sorority sisters shook their hips in the background.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Typical," he said to Niall. Niall nodded, snorting at Camille's attempt to seduce the crowd. She was attractive, with her blonde hair and big blue eyes, and her body was toned and curvy. But her attitude was enough to cancel all of that out, which is what was happening now for Niall and Harry. Instead of the show being sexy and provocative, it was just funny, a silly attempt to get them interested.

"Hey! Enjoying the show?" In the midst of his giggling, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled around to find Liam standing before him in a blue tank top and cut offs.

"Sure," Harry giggled. "Liam. Liam. How are you, maths mate? Mate from maths. You're so bloody smart." Harry hugged Liam, slapping him enthusiastically on the back, and Liam laughed in response, taken aback by how drunk harry had gotten. He'd never seen him so carefree, filterless.

"Liam, meet Niall. He's my best friend. My best roommate ever," harry giggled, throwing his arm around Niall. "That I am," Niall said, raising his hand and saluting Liam like a sailor.

"Wonderful to meet you, Niall. I'm Liam," Liam said, giggling and extending his hand to Niall. Niall shook it, smiling, and then grabbed himself another drink at the nearby table. This time, it was shots of Burnett's. Only slightly better than everclear punch.

"Here, you've got to meet my boyfriend, Zayn," Liam said, signaling for Zayn to come over to the group.

Boyfriend, Harry thought in his drunken state. So lou and Liam were just friends, right? COOOLLLLL.

"Hey mates," Zayn said, jogging over. He was wearing black athletic shorts and a white tank top, his dark hair swept to the side. "Harry, good to see you. And you're Niall, right? I feel like we've met."

Niall nodded, cocking his head to the side a bit as he examined Zayn's face. "Yeah, we did. Went out for drinks once with Melissa, right?" He said, his stomach dropping as he remembered her— and his mission for tonight. He still hadn't seen her in the crowd yet. Maybe she wasn't coming after all.

"We did," Zayn nodded, his face neutral. "You guys enjoying the party? Technically we're not working tonight, since it's hosted by Theta, but Lou always wants to make sure everyone is feeling at home here at Zete."

"Oh, we are like supeerrrrr at home," Harry said, grabbing Zayn by the shoulders. "Lou said that? Louis? Does he like me?"

"Okay.... Harry is super plastered," Niall said, stepping in and doing damage control before Harry revealed his feelings even further. Who knew how emotional he could be when his inhibitions weren't intact?

"I don't really know," Zayn replied, shrugging. He looked at Liam for support.

"He does, mate. He has his eye on you," Liam admitted, a small smile creeping across his lips.

"Really?" Harry asked, eyes widening. He has bit Bit lips so much throughout the night that they were a cherry color now. Now, he was biting them again, his face flushing the same shade of red.

"Really," Liam replied, giving Zayn a gentle kiss on the head. "Look there's Louis now!"

Sure enough, Louis was making his way through the crowd, drinks in hand, only a few feet away from the where the boys were standing. Harry felt his heart start to race and his hands grow clammy with sweat as he anticipated facing Lou. He had absolutely no idea what to say to him.

Unfortunately, he never got the chance to say anything to him because, at that very moment, Camille launched herself from the table, jumping down into the crowd and causing a scene. Bodies began pushing and shoving and Louis lurched forward, falling and spilling his drinks everywhere.

"Oh fuck, we better go help him!" Zayn cried to Liam, running into the crowd.

Niall and Harry stood there dumbfounded, staring as they lifted Louis off the ground.

Louis, wiping the spilled punch off of his shirt and picking shards off glass out of his hands, stared in Camille's direction.

Some wing woman she was. He was fucking pissed.


	10. Sour

"Fucking Christ," Louis muttered, shaking his head. He was sitting on the kitchen sink now and Liam was picking glass shards out of his hand with a tweezer. Even with the two shots he had taken beforehand, it hurt like a mother fucker.

"Do you think he needs the hospital?" Zayn asked worriedly, trying to assess the depth of the wounds.

"I think he's fine. If he needed stitches, he'd be gushing. Just have to disinfect it. If it's worse in the morning he can get it checked out," Liam suggested. He had taken the EMT test a while back and passed with flying colors, but never got around to working as the job on the ambulance.

"Fine? Fuck that. I'm not fine with Camille," Louis snapped back, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought of the woman who had caused it all. "She did that on purpose... just as I was going over to Harry. She wants him for herself."

"I can see that," Zayn said, cocking his head to the side. "I mean... yeah. She did bring him to the last party. Though she puked on him, so I think you're good Lou. She doesn't have much of a chance."

Liam giggled, remembering how Camille had puked all over Harry's shirt. It was disgusting for them to clean up the bits that got on the floor, but pretty humorous in retrospect, especially given Harry's look of disgust in reaction. The boys of Zete had a love hate relationship with the girls of theta, and they were always polite to Camille, but never truly trusted her. They didn't call her Crazy Camille for nothing, and tonight she was showing her true colors.

"Fuck, I guess you're right," Louis said, wincing as Liam bandaged up his hand. "Well, the show must go on, as they say. Let's go find Styles. I'm sure he witnessed my fall."

"Oh, yeah.... he was busy having a fall of his own, that one," Liam giggled. "He's super plastered. And he mentioned you! Asked if you like him, Lou."

"Fucking watch it with the antiseptic Liam!" Louis shouted, ignoring the news he had just told him. "Zayn get me another shot, Fuck!"

Zayn handed him a bottle of tequila, and Louis downed it straight, taking at least two shots worth.

"Woo!!! Back in business baby," Louis said, wiping his mouth. Liam finished bandaging his hand and released it, allowing Louis to jump off the counter and roam free. "What were you saying? He likes me?" Louis continued, turning to face Liam. He pulled down the zipper of his vest a bit, revealing some chest hair and parts of his tattoos.

"Why don't you go find out, he's right there," Liam said, nudging Louis towards Harry, who was now approaching the kitchen with Niall.

The minute Harry saw Lou however, he tried to run in the opposite direction, his long legs taking massive strides into the back room. But Niall grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back. "Stop it Harry, it's okay," Niall whispered.

Harry turned to face Niall, shaking his head. Watching the situation unfold, Liam walked over to help Niall out, and provide Harry with some comfort.

"Hey, Harry. You good? There was so much chaos back there, right?" Liam asked casually as he pointed to he other room.

"Umm... oh. Yeah. Yup. I'm good, like. Really good," Harry said, nodding excessively. "Chaos, yeah..."

"We were just checking to see if everything was okay," Niall replied, continuing the sentence for Harry. "With Louis."

"Louis' fine, yeah? Aren't you?" Liam called, waving Louis over. Louis walked over quickly, his hips swaying in his black shorts. Harry swallowed and tried to get the image of Lou dancing out of his head, but he couldn't. It was stuck.

"I'm fine. Wonderful, really," Louis said, rolling his eyes as he held up his bandaged hand. "Harry, how are you? Good to see you again." Louis eyed Harry up and down, a pouty smirk forming on his lips as he looked at the younger boy, who was staring at him, his big green eyes wide with desire.

"I... I'm good. I'm like... almost too good. A lot to drink," Harry stammered nervously. "But I'm glad you're okay. With your hand and all that. Good thing you're not hurt, otherwise you wouldn't be able to do your moves..."

"Do my moves?" Louis repeated, raising an eyebrow. Harry was so drunk and flirting was almost too easy. Louis felt disappointed almost; he preferred a challenge.

"I think he means dancing," Liam said hurriedly, doing damage control. Zayn had followed Louis over to where everyone was talking and he nodded in agreement. Liam locked eyes with Zayn, grabbing his shoulder tenderly and giving it a squeeze.

Zayn melted in response to Liam's touch, kissing him lightly on the bicep. He noticed that across from him, Niall was getting a bit antsy now, as the party was ending soon and he probably wanted to get with Melissa.

"Niall, want me to help you find Melissa?" he asked randomly, breaking the silence. Niall looked at Zayn longingly, and then back at Harry, shrugging.

"I'll take care of Harry," Liam offered, putting a hand in Harry's shoulder. "Go find her. Text Harry when you're ready to go."

Niall nodded excitedly, running his hands through his hair for a final adjustment before following Zayn out of the kitchen. "Thanks mate," he called to Liam. "Don't worry about it," Liam responded."

Now it was just Liam, Harry and Louis standing together. Louis was checking his phone, uninterested, and harry was trying his best to stay propped upright against the wall. His brow was covered with sweat now and he looked pale in the dim kitchen lighting.

"Harry are you alright?" Liam asked, giving him a worried look. "I'm good," Harry nodded through gritted teeth. Louis smiled politely.

"Sorry, had to check in with the theta girls. Making sure they're staying to clean up," he said with a laugh. "So harry, Liam says you might join my course?" He raised an eyebrow, and put his hands on his hips, a gesture which made Harry want to grab him by the waist and start showering him with kisses.

But he couldn't do that, could he? No, absolutely not.

"Yeah, I hate art history... and Liam said your course is good for art elective," Harry replied with a nod. Liam smiled at him encouragingly as he spoke, surprised he could form coherent sentences.

"Well, it's good for more than an elective. I study theatre. But yes, people take it for their art credit," Louis said, crossing his hands over his chest. If he was teaching a theatre class right now, he would call his a cross between behavior 'passive aggressive' and 'hard to get.' Perhaps it was a little harsh, but he wasn't in the mood for a drunken hookup tonight. With styles' closeted interest in men, it was almost certain that he would treat it as a one night stand never to be mentioned again. And Louis didn't want that — he wanted Harry to remember it, and remember it good. Maybe even come back for more.

That's not to say Louis didn't like a good one night stand. Sometimes he did, depending on the guy and circumstance, but he didn't want that with Harry. Harry was pure, innocent, still waiting to explore. Louis knew there was so much potential there, so much territory to cross, so much to uncover. This tall, gentle man with the big green eyes was a mystery to him, and as much as he wanted his body, he also wanted to know what was going on inside of that pretty head of his— he wanted to work his way from the inside out.

No, if Louis was going to do this, he was going to do this right. He wanted to get in Harry's head first, figure him out, and then gave Harry come running to him— and not just because he was plastered. Because he couldn't resist, with or without alcohol. Because he had it bad for him.

"Yeah, Sorry, didn't mean it... like that... fuck," Harry replied nervously. Louis could tell that harry was falling under his spell already, that his plan was working . He cocked his head to one side, neither accepting nor denying his apology, and jutted out his lower lip, waiting for Harry to continue the conversation and reply with something sassy or snarky to continue the banter.

But he didn't. Instead of continuing, Harry just stood there, with his mouth gaping open, completely mortified.

"It's okay, harry. Louis is just joking, he likes to joke," Liam replied, patting him on the shoulder. He shot Louis a look that said 'come on!' To which Louis replied by rolling his eyes.

"Oh... okay. Well I'm gonna go... use the loo. Great to see you," Harry replied, nearly running out of the kitchen. He didn't even know where the bathroom was but he was fucked if he stayed in the kitchen.

He wandered through the party feeling around all the doorknobs until he opened a door to find a bathroom. His stomach was aching now and he was worried he might pull a Camille and puke everywhere. Leaning over the sink, he drank some water, and then sat on the toilet seat to catch his breath.

Louis made him so god damn nervous. And it was so clear that he had blew it— Louis was giving off disinterested body language and was even offended by what he said. There went that opportunity.

Sighing, Harry went to text Niall and ask if he was ready to leave, but he hears a knock at the door.

"Harry?!"

It was Liam. Fuck.

"Just a minute!" Harry called, flushing the toilet. He didn't want to go back outside— Louis was out there — but now he had no choice.

Harry turned the sink on and off and then opened the door slowly, coming face to face with Liam's big brown eyes.

"Hey, sorry about Louis. He was being kind of passive aggressive because he's upset about his hand," Liam explained. "He really does like you. I promise".

Harry shrugged. "Not a big deal," he replied coldly. "All good... where's Niall?"

"Oh, I don't know. Off with Zayn, why?" he asked. Harry was still standing in the door frame of the bathroom, and Liam was giving him an odd look, motioning for him to follow.

Harry looked around to make sure Louis wasn't there, and then stepped out into the room with Liam.

"Needa find him," Harry babbled. "Kinda wanna get going, you know, a lot to drink. Tired."

Liam nodded. That was understandable, Harry was pretty plastered, but he knew that he was probably just leaving to escape Louis, which made him sad. He didn't understand why lou had been so rough with harry, especially given how nervous the lad was.

"Okay, ill help you," Liam said, scanning the crowd for Niall and zayn.

"Thanks," Harry replied, sending Niall another text. He might be getting laid with Melissa by now. But it was worth messaging him in case he wasn't.

When they circled the three party rooms and didn't find him, Harry started to get anxious and grabbed onto Liam's shoulders in desperation. "I just wanna go home," he sniffled. "I might just Uber."

Liam frowned and scooped Harry into a hug. "It's okay mate. Let's give it another 10 minutes and see if you can find your roommate. In the meantime, are you hungry? You want something to eat? Or some water?"

Harry nodded. "Water," he said quietly. Liam nodded back and jogged into another room, returning with a glass of water.

"Thanks," Harry replied, sipping it slowly. He felt something brush against his shoulder briefly as he turned towards Liam, and whirled around to find Niall and Zayn, both with big smiles on their faces.

"We danced and kissed a little!" Niall said, throwing his fists in the air. "Best wingman ever? zayn!" Zayn And Niall high fived, laughing at each other and collapsing into a big hug.

"Thanks bro, for setting us up. She had to go but we're getting sushi on Tuesday!" Niall said with a huge smile. Harry nodded excitedly. "Awesome work, nialler," he giggled.

"Sweet," Liam said, though he hadn't been interested in women since high school, and even then he wasn't all that enthused.

"Okay. Cool. Now can we get the fuck out of here?" Harry asked, grabbing Niall's hand and pointing to the door. "I really need to go home and cry."

Niall shot Liam a confused look, and Liam rolled his eyes, mouthing Louis' name and signaling a thumbs down. Niall cringed and made a sad face, grabbing Harry's hand and allowing him to lead him out the door.

"Bye mates!" Niall called over his shoulder as he was dragged to the exit. The minute they walked into the hallway, Harry started sobbing in the corridor, his green eyes welling with tears and his shoulders curling up to his ears.

"Hey, Haz. It's okay," Niall said gently. Harry shook his head and continued to cry, moving quickly down the steps until they made it outside.

"It's not okay and it never will be because Louis hates me," Harry moaned, taking a seat on the steps of the building. Niall put a hand on his back and rubbed it slowly. "It's okay, harry," he said again. It was going to be a long night....


	11. Confessions

Harry woke up with a massive hangover the next morning, his head throbbing and his stomach aching. As soon as he got up, at around 10:00am, he began to feel dizzy and held onto his dresser for support as he regained his balance. 

"Are you as hungover as I am?" Niall groaned from his bed. 

Instead of responding, Harry sprinted to the bathroom, leaning over the toilet bowl and dry heaving. Nothing was coming up, as he hadn't eaten anything last night, but he still felt extremely nauseous and gripped the bowl in agony, his knuckles turning white. 

"You puking?" Niall asked, sitting up in bed. "Dude, I feel sick too. I think that everclear ratio was way off..." Suddenly, Niall lurched out of bed and ran to the bathroom as well, gripping the sink and throwing up into it. 

"Fuck," he said, rinsing his mouth. "Sorry, Harry."

"It's fine. I haven't puked but I think I might," Harry replied, coughing. As if on cue, he started to throw up into the toilet. It was red like the color of the punch. Lovely. 

"Definitely bad punch. It's red," Harry moaned, doubling over in pain. 

"Same here," Niall said, half laughing, half complaining. In the past three years at U of Chicago, he had his fair share of hangovers, but never one with red punch-colored puke. This was a new low. 

"We're not making it to maths are we?" Harry asked, running a hand over his face. He was sweating, his skin cold and clammy, and he shook a bit as a chill made it's way down his back. 

"Fuck, maths. I'll text my friend Dave for notes," Niall said, leaning over the sink and puking a second time.

Harry nodded, rubbing his eyes and curling his legs up to his stomach on the bathroom floor. Fuck these Americans and their Everclear, Harry thought. This is awful. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of hours, two naps, five Advils and four bottles of Gatorade later, Niall and Harry started to feel like humans again, their nausea subsiding and their headaches dulling. 

"I think I can stomach something light. Getting my appetite back," Niall said to Harry, who was checking his phone in bed. "How about you?"

"Yeah. Do you want to get pancakes or something? I'm craving diner food," Harry said with a laugh. He put his phone down and sat up, facing Niall. 

"Sounds good to me," Niall agreed, jumping off his bed and grabbing a T-shirt. He did the sniff test to make sure it was safe, as he hadn't had time for laundry lately, and deciding it was, he tossed it on and headed to the door. 

Harry put on a shirt as well and tugged on some athletic shorts and Nike sneakers before following Niall out the door. 

The diner wasn't too far from campus. You just had to turn right instead of left when you got to 12th street, and the building was right there. Despite their lethargy, Niall and Harry made there in a few minutes, the cool fall breeze gently nipping their skin. Soon the leaves would turn red and yellow and brown and they wouldn't be able to wear shorts and a T-shirt anymore. 

"Banana pancakes please," Harry said as the waitress arrived to take their order shortly after their arrival. Though he was British, pancakes were his favorite food ever-- so many restaurants in London had them now a days, though they weren't as good as the US kind, and he even made them at home some weekend mornings. 

"Yeah, I'll take the belgium waffles," Niall added, handing the waitress their menus. "I'm starving." 

"Same," Harry said, leaning back into his seat at the booth. "I was so plastered last night. I remember crying at some point--I'm really sorry Niall. I crossed some boundaries."

"Yeah, you could not hold your tequila -- or your everclear," Niall replied with a giggle. "But no worries, you didn't cross any boundaries. That's what friends are for. I had your back." 

"Okay, I mean, I just wanted to make sure I didn't weird you out, with, you know...." Harry said softly, raising his eyebrows. He barely remember what he shared with Niall last night, but he distinctly remembered mentioning Louis multiple times, and assumed he probably told him about his crush. 

"With what?" Niall asked, concerned. "You didn't say anything weird. You just said you felt like you weren't meeting societal expectations. We talked about that and I said to fuck those expectations. You also said you liked Louis...."

"Yeah," Harry replied, his face turning the same color as the ketchup container in front of him. "I didn't really intend to share that... that I'm bi...." 

As he said the words, Harry's nausea immediately returned and he had half a mind to make a beeline to the bathroom. He had never told this before to anyone -- even himself. It had just slipped out this time, and he wasn't even drunk! 

Either Niall was a really good listener and had that effect on people, or he had just had some sort of hungover-post-rager epiphany in the diner. In either case, Harry didn't know what to say next. 

"It's okay. I won't tell anyone," Niall said, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder from across the booth. "It's not my story to share. Sorry it came out unintentionally. But there's nothing to be ashamed of." 

Harry nodded, his green eyes watering a bit. He didn't want to cry again. He had cried enough last night, in Niall's arms for god's sake. 

"I know I shouldn't be ashamed. When other people come out, I think it's great. But when it's me... well... it's different," Harry admitted, swirling the straw in his water. 

"Makes total since. I think some of the guys at Zete feel the same way," Niall said with a nod. "When I chatted with Zayn a bit last night, he said he hadn't come out until recently. Still hasn't told his parents. It's tough. And if you ever need someone to talk about it with, I'm sure he'd be happy to help. Or Liam, too." 

Harry nodded, wondering what he had done last night in front of Zayn and Liam. It was all such a blur. He probably embarrassed himself -- he probably shouldn't even face Liam after the way he acted. Getting all dramatic and teary eyed. Over what? Louis.... Louis making a comment? Or something like that. It all seemed to petty now. 

"Yeah, thanks, mate. Maybe I will. Sorry to share all about this feelings stuff. It's just alot. I've been working through it since first year," Harry confessed, lowering his eyes. "It's been a bit of a train wreck, honestly."

"Hey, there's no rush to figure things out," Niall said, encouragingly, moving his water out of the way as the waitress returned and placed the waffles in front of him. Harry did the same, now focusing his attention on the stack of pancakes that had been set before him. 

"Yeah. I guess you're right. So how was it with Melissa?" Harry asked as he cut his pancakes into squares. He grabbed some syrup and poured it on top, watching it drip to the bottom and fill his plate. 

"Oh, it went well. I asked her to dance when this song 'Slow Hands' came on because it's uplifting but not too fast," Niall began, a huge smile spreading across his face. "And we danced a bit, like her ass in my crotch, you know? And then she turned to me and I grabbed her face and asked 'can I kiss you.' We've kissed before you, know. But never like that. It was really passionate... I don't know. And then she said she had to go, but I asked her on a date. We're getting dinner next week. Fuck I'm nervous." Niall was blushing now too, quickly digging into his waffles as he finished the story. 

Nodding, Harry took a bite of his pancakes. They were fucking amazing, fluffy, light and buttery. Plus the banana added a nice fruit flavor. "That's awesome, Ni. So happy for you. And don't be nervous, you'll be great," Harry said with a smile. 

"I hope so. Not the best at dating. Longest relationship I've been in lasted two months," Niall said with a shrug. "But I think with Melissa, it'll be different."

"Yeah," Harry nodded, taking a sip of water. "There's chemistry." 

Niall rolled his eyes, pretending to laugh at the pun Harry had made about his major. "Very funny, Styles," he said with a smirk. He was about to ask Harry about his love life, when he remembered the sob fest that had happened outside of the apartment building because of Louis. He figured it was best not to bring it up. 

"Oh fuck. Liam texted me," Harry said, dropping his fork onto his plate. "He sent the notes. I forgot he was in that maths class too. I didn't see him on Tuesday." 

"Wow, he sent them to me too. It's a group chat," Niall said, checking his phone. "That's sure nice of him. He was really chill last night. Helped you out for a bit, right?" 

Harry nodded, wrinkling his nose and frowning. "Yeah, helped me out during my breakdown. I'm so bloody embarrassed," he said, lowering his voice. 

"Oh, stop it. Last night was a shit show. Camille caused that whole flash mob thing, and Louis got injured. Liam had to patch up his hand. And Zayn was with me playing wingman. The whole night was a shit show," Niall assured him. 

"True," Harry replied, cocking his head to the side as he finished his final bite of pancake. "He dealt with a lot that night, I'm sure he doesn't mind."

"That's the spirit," Niall said with a smile. "Oh shit, Haz, he's asking you in the chat if you're doing Lou's theatre class. There's only one spot left."

Harry stared at Niall, running his hands through his hair. "Fuck. I don't know! I don't wanna deal with Louis," he said, going through the pros and cons. "But art history is bloody hard. There's a 15 page final paper and weekly exams. Theatre is solely class participation and a few skits."

"Yeah. Don't risk it with art history. I've heard horror stories. Especially with that French professor," Niall warned, raising an eyebrow. "Say you'll take it mate. It's the better option."

Harry frowned, but nodded. Niall was right. It was the better option, and he could put up with Louis for a few hours a week if it meant getting a better grade and having more time to study for maths. "Okay," he said, texting Liam back in the chat. "I told him."

"Sweet. So our schedules are sorted. Our stomachs are full. What do you say we go play some Fifa during this last week of freedom before homework starts catching up with us," Niall said, waving the waitress over for the bill. 

"That sounds awesome," Harry replied with a nod. How did he get so lucky with his roommate? Niall was so understanding, and shared many of his interests -- with the exception of his obsession with English breakfast. It was like the universe was smiling down on him. 

"Great, let's go!" Niall said, spotting the bill. 

"Oh, let me pay you back," Harry said, handing him a 10$ bill. Niall shook his head, pushing Harry's hand away. "I got you," he replied, giggling. 

"No, really," Harry said, worriedly. "I'll pay for you next time then?" 

"Maybe," Niall said, shrugging as they got up to leave. He looked at Harry, who was staring at him like he had just driven a car into a ditch. 

"Easiest way to fuck with an Englishmen. Pay for his food," Niall chuckled, slapping Harry on the back as they headed out the exit. 

"Wanker!" Harry yelled. He slapped Niall back and jumped onto his back as they reached the parking lot, laughing. To his surprise, Niall took off running with Harry still on his back. 

"Fuck!" Harry screamed. "You're actually insane, Niall." 

"That I am," he replied, slowing down and letting Harry off. Harry smirked at Niall, who was now bending over to catch his breath. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to run immediately after eating waffles....

Hello. Hope you enjoyed #NarryBromance. Wtf is gonna happen next y'all? Harry is joining theatre.... I guess we'll find out!


	12. Drama

"Alright, class. So today we're running scenes from an American in Paris. Can anyone do a French accent?" Louis asked, scanning around the room for a willing volunteer. As usual, no one raised their hand -- perhaps because they were scared of him or perhaps because they truly couldn't do a French accent -- but Louis didn't mind calling on someone at random. The best way to learn is through improvisation anyways.

Liam and Harry were sitting in the back of the room, slinking down in their seats so Louis wouldn't be able to call on them. "Alright, Jenny Simmons. Get on up here. You'll be Lise, the French dancer," Louis said, rolling his eyes as he chose a name by random off the class roster. A blonde girl quickly stood up and scurried to the stage, standing next to Louis with her hands behind her back.

"And can anyone do a thick 1950s New York accent?" Louis asked, unhopeful. "If you don't know how to do one, you're all going to learn today. And you'll be tested on it, so be ready!" Louis tried to hold back laughter as he mentioned testing. There really was no testing in this class -- students' grades were mostly based off of their effort levels and how much they improved, not how good at acting they were. But he liked to scared them sometimes, as he knew it would make them jittery and boosted their motivation. As predicted, a bunch of students began to raise their hands.

"Alright. Very good. I think I'll choose..." Louis began. He scanned around the room at the raised hands, mostly guys who he knew from the frat, including Liam, who was raising his hand and flailing it wildly -- perhaps to mess with hin. But he already knew all of the Zete men could act well, and didn't want to choose them. He wanted to choose someone else, someone with less experience.

"Harry Styles? Is that you?" he said, his eyes widening as he spotted Harry, halfway sunken in his seat next to Liam. He jumped down from the stage, landing Spiderman style with one hand on the floor and hopped up, jogging down the aisle. "You decided to take my course after all. You got the last spot. Rather lucky, isn't he ladies and gents?"

The other students -- there were about 50 of them -- nodded in unison, smiling a bit too widely for Louis' liking. Kiss asses, he thought, rolling his eyes. Though if he was being honest, he did enjoy having people butter up to him from time to time. He loved the power.

"Alright, Harry, let's see what you've got," Louis continued, motioning for him to get up. Harry was frozen in his seat, staring at Louis like he had just told him he was going on death row. His mouth was hanging wide open and his green eyes were unblinking as he looked up at Louis.

"Oh- okay," Harry stammered. Liam started pushing him to get up, hurrying him along, and he rose to his feet, nearly stumbling over his long legs as he followed Louis to center stage next to Jenny.

"Alright, so Harry, you'll play Jerry Mulligan, the protagonist. He literally is an American in Paris. So when you read this, do a thick New York accent. And Jenny, you're gonna be super French, and very dramatic -- so lots of 'oh my goodness' and 'I musn't' and all that. Ready?" Louis asked them, though by the astonished looks on their faces, it was very clear that they were far from ready.

Smirking, he handed them each a script, opening it to a scene where Jerry and Lise meet for the first time in the dance studio. Jerry had just gotten done watching Lise dance and was complimenting her, flirting in a very formal way, like they did back in the 1950s.

"Well, let's get too it. Harry you start. Jerry's first line. Chop, chop. Let's not stand around with our balls in our hands," Louis quipped, snickering at his own joke. Some of the students laughed nervously, while others stared at him incredulously. Was he really saying such vulgar things in front of the class?

"Uh, right," Harry said, nodding and stepping towards Jenny. "Hello. I'm Jerry. Jerry Mulligan," he said, his deep voice lowering even further to form the New York accent. It wasn't amazing, as Harry had to work double time just to do an American accent in the first place, but it wasn't bad either. Decent.

"Nice to meet you Jerry. I'm Lise," Jenny said. Louis' eyes widened as he listened to Jenny's perfect French accent. Taking another look at the class roster, he saw that she was a French major, and internally kicked himself for choosing someone with experience. He was really hoping whoever played Lise would embarrass themselves.

"Likewise, Lise. I saw your dancing, it was quite incredible," Harry continued. He maintained the same accent, but he was staring at the script, avoiding eye contact with Jenny and his body language was rigid.

"Alright -- cut!" Louis said, walking over to them an intervening. "You guys are doing well with the accents and all, but you can't just stand there staring at the script, Harry. You have to move around and make eye contact with who you're talking to. And don't face her fully. You want to be on an angle, so you're half facing her and half facing the audience. They want to see your pretty face!"

Harry instantly blushed at the word 'pretty,' which he probably took personally. But Louis talked like that to everyone, and hardly thought anything of it. It was just part of his sassy persona. Louis shot Harry an odd look, raising his eyebrows. "Same with you, Jenny," he continued. He was grabbing her by the shoulders now, positioning her so she was facing the audience. Once she was in the right place, he did the same to Harry.

Harry's breath hitched as Louis grabbed his shoulders. He was so tall that Louis had to stand on his tiptoes to do it, but he was strong, and had no problem pulling Harry forwards to face the audience. Their faces were close as Louis positioned him, and Harry could feel Lou's cool breath on his face. It smelled like a mix between cigarettes, coffee and mint gum. Delicious.

"Okay, perfect. Continue!" Louis said, stepping back towards the side of the stage. "I hope you're all taking notes. You'll be tested on this," he added, turning towards the rest of the class. He giggled to himself as the students rapidly whipped out pens and began writing things down. It was almost too easy to mess with them.

"Well thank you, Jerry. I've been training for nine years. Being a ballerine has always been my dream," Jenny continued, nodding towards Harry and smiling. Good, she gets it, Louis thought to himself. Let's see if Styles over here can get with the program.

"Well, it sure shows. What's your favorite move? I do a bit of ballet myself. That is, when I'm not with the troops," Harry said. He stared at Jenny, making an awkward smile and added a little arm motion when he said 'move.' Not great -- very awkward and mechanical, but he was tall and lanky. Louis didn't expect him to be all too graceful in the first place, especially after he had seen the way he stumbled around after just a few drinks.

"Oh, Grand Jete of course. I'm still working on perfecting it," Jenny continued, batting her eyes at Harry flirtatiously. Was that part of her acting or was she actually interested in Harry? Louis couldn't tell.

"A wonderful move. I've yet to master it as well," Harry said, nodding and smiling. Louis could tell he was trying, but his face lacked emotion. His heart didn't seem fully in it.

"Okay, okay. Great job. Stop there, guys," Louis said, motioning for them to cut. "Class, what did you think?"

"I think they did quite well. Maybe be a little more vigorous in your body language. We're watching from a far so you have to really exaggerate it," Liam called out from the back. Louis shot him a dirty look, as he hated when students called out without him choosing them, but Liam smiled back at him sweetly and he couldn't help but smirk.

"Right. Very good observation. You guys definitely improved from the first line, but in the future push it a bit further with the body language," Louis told Harry and Jenny. "Anyone else?"

Louis nodded towards a ginger headed girl with glasses in the front row, who had been taking notes vigorously before Louis even asked them to. "Yes?" he asked.

"Well, it seemed like Jenny was really flirting with Harry. It seemed believable. But Harry was kind of all stiff and aloof," she said softly.

Harry instantly blushed, wringing his wrist with his opposite hand out of nervousness. He had been aloof, partly because he was new to acting and partly because Louis was right there, watching him and had just been all up in his personal space just moments prior. His head was still reeling -- in fact, he was lucky he was able to even deliver the lines at all let alone use body language and feign an American accent.

"Well, that's a bit harsh. Even for this class," Louis replied with a giggle. "Harry is sort of tall and lanky, so maybe it just comes off that way. But yes, he could do a bit more to make the flirting believable. I think you could work on the intonation -- and the eye contact. By making your dialogue a little bit friendlier, you can convey the flirting. It can be hard in a foreign accent though."

As he said all this, Louis examined Harry carefully, eyeing him up and down as he stroked the stubble on his chin. His face was muddled into a pouty smirk and he had one hip extended in Harry's direction. Harry nodded at Louis, barely comprehending the feedback he was giving him. "Makes sense, yeah," he said quietly.

Liam, who was watching this all unfold, tried not to giggle in his seat. He knew it was bad news when Louis selected Harry to perform today, but he didn't think the tensions would rise this high. Louis was a hard critic, and had said even worse things than the red-headed girl had just shared. The fact that he was defending Harry -- being lanky was hardly an excuse -- showed that this was personal, that he was trying to get on Harry's good side, and perhaps make up for their misunderstanding the night prior.

Louis would obviously never admit in a million years, but he did have a soft side when it came to men that he was interested in, and if his desire was strong enough, it could make the sass and attitude melt away bit by bit, until Louis was a cuddly, compassionate mess, relaxing on top of his partner's chest, asking for more kisses. Liam, after all, knew this first hand...

"Alright, anymore comments?" Louis continued, pacing around on stage. "None? Okay. Well, we're almost out of time for this activity, so let's give a round of applause to Harry and Jenny. You guys did a nice job, and I'll be emailing you more detailed commentary later this week." Harry and Jenny nodded, quickly exiting the stage. Harry nearly sprinted down the aisle, plopping down next to Liam and giving him a wounded look.

"Why the long face? You did, great mate!" Liam said, slapping him on the back. "I can hardly do a New York accent. It was spot on." Harry nodded in response. "Thanks," he said. But Liam could tell something more was bothering him -- and it obviously had to do with Louis.

"Why did he pick me? And call me out as a new student in front of everyone?" Harry grumbled, folding his arms. "It was my first fucking day here. I can't catch a break can, I?"

Liam shrugged. He understood why Harry was upset. He would be too if Louis had picked him -- something which had happened just last week, during the Cervantes unit of all things.

"I don't know, mate. He usually picks people who don't have much experience so they can try something new," Liam offered. "He picked me last week. He also likes to fuck with people he knows personally."

"Well, he doesn't know me personally. We're barely acquaintances," Harry said, his green eyes darkening. "And you're the one who drew his attention over here in the first place with all your flailing."

"Relax, Harry. It's done now. And you've gotten it over with. He has 50 other students to get through, so you won't have to do it again for a while," Liam said, patting Harry's shoulder. "Plus, between you and me, we're not getting graded on any of this. It's all about improvement. Louis just lies about exams and grades to fuck with the students."

"Well that's quite lovely, isn't it? What a nice chap," Harry responded, checking his phone for the time. He was feeling hot and anxious now and all he wanted to do was go home and get a grilled cheese with Niall.

"Harry, do you have a problem with Louis?" Liam asked, looking into his eyes.

"No," Harry lied. "I just get really bad stage fright. I'm pretty shaken up. Sorry if I'm being rude..."

"It's okay. I understand. But he really does like you, Harry," Liam said with a smile. "I promise, he really does."

Harry nodded, not responding and leaning back in his chair. "Sure," he whispered. "Sure he does."


	13. Swiping

"Louis!" Liam yelled, walking into the Zete apartment. "Lou, where are you?"

"What?" Louis whined. He was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a beer as he typed up something on his laptop. "I'm typing up feedback for my students."

Liam walked into the kitchen, setting down his messenger back and rolling his eyes. "Is that Miller?" He asked, raising an eyebrow as he grabbed a banana from the fruit basket.

"Miller lite!" louis replied, smirking. "It's healthier."

"Sure it is," Liam said with a smirk. "Listen, you really upset Harry today, man. Not cool!"

Louis looked up from his work, locking eyes with Liam, his icy orbs causing Liam to take a step back in shock. He forgot how blue Louis' eyes were, especially after spending so much time looking into Zayn's brown ones.

"Oh, I upset him?" louis asked, crossing his arms over his chest and making a pouty face. "I was up there saving him while that ginger nerd was roasting him. Sheesh! He should be thanking me."

Liam shrugged. "Yeah, you did cover for him. But he was upset you asked him up there in the first place — and told everyone he was new to the class. He doesn't like the attention," Liam explained as he took a bite of his banana.

"Oh, come on. That's just rubbish, Li. If he doesn't like attention he shouldn't do drama," he rebuked. "It comes with the territory. Did he think he could sit there silently and read Macbeth?"

Liam shook his head, giving up as he wasn't in the mood to deal with Louis' attitude this afternoon. He had just finished a difficult round of maths problems at the tutoring center and wanted to relax and clear his head with some Netflix.

"You're right, you're right," Liam said, nodding. "The lad is just nervous, that's all. Needs a little TLC."

"TLC?" Louis cried, pointing to his laptop. "So should I just rewrite his evaluation then? Tell him it was bloody amazing, Broadway worthy? Please, it was second rate, at best. I was polite in this evaluation because he's a beginner but he has to step it up next time around. This is my job, Liam. I'm not going to favor him because he's your little friend."

"I never asked you to — little friend?" Liam asked, confused. "I do not have the hots for Harry.... I thought you did?"

Louis rolled his eyes and finished off his beer, slamming the empty can down on the table. "Harry is attractive yes. Adorable and charming, sure. But he's too easy, Liam. He just wants to explore the other side — has barely crossed the bi line," Louis replied. "I don't want to be someone's little experiment, especially not a closeted boy like styles. I've been there before, and trust me, it's not fun. I want more of a challenge, someone who can dance my dance, if you know what I mean."

Liam nodded understandingly. That made perfect sense. They did seem to be looking for different things. Harry was an innocent lamb, shaky and unsure, and louis was an experienced wolf, who had already had his fair share of lambs and wanted something more his own pace.

"I know. I mean, he does like you though. But if you're not down, there's no reason to bother," Liam said, heading towards the kitchen door.

"Yeah, mate. I'm glad we're on the same page," Louis replied, returning to his work. "And listen, Liam. I know you wanna pay me back for setting you up with Zayn and all... but we're even. It's perfectly fine. I don't need you to set me up with anyone."

Liam laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "Of course, sorry," he said quickly. "I wont intervene anymore."

"Thanks," louis replied, though Liam could hint a bit of emotion in his voice. Was it desire? Regret? He wasn't entirely certain.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Harry was in the library doing maths problems when Camille found him. She didn't hesitate to rush over to him, kicking up her leg onto his library desk and smiling sweetly at him.

"Um. Hi Camille. Can I help you?" Harry asked, slinking away from her leg. She was wearing very short red shorts and if he got any closer he would be looking up them.

"Harry!" She cooed. "Long time no see. Did you enjoy the party?" That didn't answer his question.

"Yeah, Camille. The dancing was great," Harry lied, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible. "Sorry- I just have to finish this. It's due at midnight. Do you mind if we talk another time?"

Camille removed her leg, placing it back on the floor and took one of Harry's papers off his desk. "Ohhh. Is this differential equations? I did those once. I got a D," she admitted, thinking back to first year maths.

"Yeah, Camille. And I'll get a D too if I don't finish," Harry said, sternly. He was losing his patience with this girl. Why did she have to follow him everywhere?

"Sorry," Camille replied, her blue eyes widening. She took a step back, perhaps embarrassed for once. "I just wanted to know if you wanted to come to a costume party this weekend," she continued, more quietly this time. She removed a flyer from her back and handed it to Harry.

"Thank, I'll think about it. Haven't been feeling well lately," Harry told her, remembering his hangover from the last party he had attended.

"Okay. Well I hope to see you there!" She chirped with a smile. "And return my texts please." Camille shot harry a wounded look, and Harry shrugged, feigning a guilty frown.

"Sorry, I will. See you later, then," Harry replied, reorganizing his papers on his desk. He cleared his throat, and for once in her life, Camille took the hint and began to leave, her curvy ass nearly peaking out from under her short shorts as she slunk away.

Fuck, I can't catch a break, Harry thought, rolling his eyes as he thought back to earlier this afternoon when Louis had forced him to act in front of everyone. He thought he could retreat to the library to get some alone time and finish his homework, but of course, Camille had showed up. And there was no such thing as peace and quiet when Crazy Camille was around.

Sighing, Harry took a look at the flyer that Camille had given him. It was a costume party alright — if by costumes she meant lingerie. Harry crumpled the flyer of scantily clad men and women, tossing it into the garbage without reading it. That was definitely a party he would not be attending.

Harry spent another hour at the library before his grumbling stomach forced him to call it quits. On his way out, he texted Niall, asking if he was hungry for dinner. Niall was, and they agreed to meet up at the Mexican joint on campus for burritos, as neither of them was feeling cafeteria food. It was casserole night, after all.

"How goes it, lad?" Niall asked Harry, taking a bite of his burrito about a half hour later. Harry shrugged, frowning slightly, and cut a triangle of his quesadilla. "I've been better. Had to act in front of the whole drama class today. Doing a New York accent, of all things. It was a drag," he said sullenly. "Then I went to the library and crazy Camille got me. She was putting her leg all over my desk, and then gave me some flyer for a 'costume party' with pictures of people wearing lingerie on it."

"Oh shit!" Niall yelled, standing up in his seat a little. "That's fucking hilarious. She is so wild." Harry giggled along with Niall, but he still felt upset at the whole situation. He didn't understand why people had to give him such a hard time — especially in Camille's case, where he made it blatantly clear he wasn't interested time and time again.

"Yeah, man. I don't know," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "So how are things with Melissa?"

"Awesome! Our date last night was really good. Turns out we both love soccer and country music. Went home after and listened to some country tunes at her place, drank some wine...." Niall wiggled his eyebrows to indicate what happened after.

"Sweet!" Harry said, high fiving his roommate from across the table. "You fucked her?"

"Yeah, I mean I have before," Niall replied nodding. "But this was sober sex. And we got really into it."

Harry nodded, smiling at Niall as he took a bite of his quesadilla. But he couldn't help but feel a bit lonely, like he wanted someone of his own.

"That's awesome, mate. So cool how you met at a party," Harry said, jealousy making its way through his semester. "Honestly, I just don't have that kind of luck at parties. I'm thinking of going on Tinder."

Niall nodded, tossing his burrito wrapper aside as he finished his food. "Not a bad idea mate. My buddy Dave has used it tons in the past and it's great for meeting people. Some even get into relationships using it," Niall replied. "What are you looking for exactly?"

Harry blushed. He didn't intend to share that with Niall, but it was a fair question. The truth was he didn't even really know himself — but if he had to choose, he really just wanted a one night stand. He hadnt had sex since last April in Newcastle with a foreign exchanged student named Helena who orgasmed in Greek. It was not the most pleasant experience.

"Kinda just need to get laid, you know?" Harry admitted with a laugh. "I'm up for anything though."

"Ha!" Niall giggled, slapping his knee. "At least you're being honest. That's what most people use it for though, so you're in the right place."

Harry nodded, flashing Niall a big white smile. "That's good to know!" he said, laughing. "Sounds like you know from experience."

"Fine," Niall said, furrowing his brow in a pout. "I've used it too. Trust me, you'll get laid." Harry laughed, smirking at Niall. "Knew it!" He laughed.

Harry finished up how quesadilla and rose to throw out the trash, returning to the table, finding Niall holding his phone and smiling. "Look! I made you a profile!" He said to Harry, chuckling.

Harry snatched his phone, staring at the screen which had his Facebook profile photo, a side profile shot of him wearing sunglasses and overlooking a Spanish city while on vacation. The bio read "british, bi and ready to bang!" With an emoji of a cannon next to it.

"You wanker!" Harry cried, wheezing as he laughed. "I am definitely changing all of this. But thank you for setting it up." Niall giggled and got up to leave, patting Harry on the back.

"Totally joking mate. I can never come up with bios. I just put the Irish flag and a shamrock in mine," he admitted. "I'm sure you'll come up with something cool though."

And he sure did. Later that night, Harry sat in bed, crafting the perfect profile, that was both witty and flirty, and even adding a promiscuous photo with his shirt unbuttoned that revealed the butterfly tattoo on his stomach.

His new bio read: "Born and raised in Britain. Maths student, new to U of Chicago. Would love for someone to show me how it's done."

Sure, it was a bit more lighthearted and sexual than harry was in real life, but he was trying to attract people to his page after all. It couldn't be boring!

Giggling, Harry began to browse through profiles for the rest of the night, swiping left and right on a sea of male and female faces, waiting to see who he matched with , and who might just be the lucky one who ended up with him under the covers this weekend.....


	14. Uninhibited

When Harry woke up the next morning after creating his Tinder profile, he was shocked to find that he had 13 new matches. Perhaps there were just a lot of horny people on campus, or perhaps harry was just really popular in the tinder scene. Either way, he felt smitten with himself, and happily flipped through the profiles, biting his lip in anticipation.

A lot of guys, according to Niall, swiped yes on everyone and unmatched later. But Harry was super selective in his swiping. He looked at the photos and bios carefully, and the location. He wanted his matches to be other students at U of Chicago, so he wouldn't have to travel too far, and he wanted to make sure they had a personality in addition to good looks.

Harry thumbed through the people who had matched him back. A girl named Christina with big brown eyes. Cute, but basic. Harry has been there before. Another girl named Allie. She was a neuroscience major and seemed to enjoy traveling. But still, Harry didn't find her worth messaging. Scrolling through a few more girls, Harry decided to look at the guys he matched with, his crotch tingling a little as he thought about getting with a guy for the first time.

First up, there was Dylan, a brunette football player from California. He had actually messaged Harry first. Harry opened it to find: "DTF, curly?" Harry blinked at the message, uncomfortable, and unmatched. No thanks.

Harry moved through the next few. Jason, a first year. Whoops. At first, Harry was open to younger male students because he assumed they also lacked experience. But on second thought, he really didn't want someone that young. Next was Jake, a blonde guy riding a skateboard in his photo. Harry shrugged. Maybe.

The next few were third years, some of whom Harry had seen around campus. They were all attractive, and one of them had even sent him a message "Hey! How's it going?" Harry was about to answer when he got a new incoming message from a more recent match: Greg.

Greg was Harry's dream guy if Harry ever met him. With big blue eyes, shaggy black hair, and rippling muscles, Greg looked gorgeous in his profile photo, a shot of him standing in shorts and a tank top on the beach. The shorts were hot pink, flashy and flamboyant, just like his bio which read: "move it or lose it. I'm a catch" with a fishing emoji next to it.

Harry smiled as he opened the message. "Hey, Harry. Where in England from you? You're way too handsome for this campus." Wow, blunt. Harry giggled, instantly messaging back. "Cheshire. And thank you, you're rather handsome yourself." Maybe that was a little forward, nothing like the way he would converse in real life, but it was tinder for gods sakes. This is how people talk on there, right?

"Why, thanks. What year are you? I can definitely show you around campus, so long as you're not a 'fresher,'" Greg replied. Harry giggled at Greg's attempt to use British English. "Yes, that's the correct term. But no, I'm not one. I'm a third year. And I'd quite like that," he replied.

"Great. Then let's QUITE do it. Free at 8pm tonight? We can meet at Devin's, a bar on thirteenth with a student lounge. There's a live band tonight," Greg replied. Damn, Harry thought, his eyes widening. Less than a day one tinder and he already had a date. Who fucking knew?

"Sounds good. I'll meet you there," Harry replied closing the deal. He was really glad Niall was asleep still because right now he had the biggest, goofiest smile on his face. It was really finally happening.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Later that day, two classes and one study session later, Harry found himself in his bedroom trying to decide between a purple and a powder blue button down. He decided on the powder blue, and paired it with black skinny jeans a Chelsea boot, running his fingers through his shoulder length hair to give it a nice touseled look. Perfect. He sprayed on a bit of cologne and popped a piece of mint gum into his mouth. He was ready.

"On my way," he texted Greg, upon leaving the flat. Niall was out with Melissa tonight, and Melissa had a bunch of roommates, so Niall was likely to use the room. Harry wasn't really sure about Greg's room situation, so Niall told him just shoot a heads up if they needed the room and he could always have Melissa over another night. Sometimes Harry wondered how he got so blessed with such a kind, open minded roommate.

Taking a deep breath, Harry headed down the street and made his way to the bar they had agreed to meet at. It was a small brick building with a sign in the window that read 'devin's pub.' Harry thought it was an odd name for a pub, but perhaps it was the owners name or something. It honestly didn't matter.

What did matter though, was how he was about to meet Greg in about sixty seconds and how his heart was thumping harder than a bongo drum and his legs were starting to feel like jelly. Get it together, Styles, he told himself. This is it!

As Harry walked in, he took in the scene, trying to assess the vibe. It was a very low key bar with indie music playing softly in the background, by a live band as Greg had said, and string lights hanging around on each wall. Harry spotted Greg from across the room, sitting at an open booth, and internally screamed before waving and making his way over.

He was SO HOT.

"Hey, nice to meet you," Harry said, extending a hand as Greg rose from the booth to greet him.

"Nice to meet you, MATE," Greg said, laughing a little. His voice was deep, raspy even. Not what Harry had expected.

Greg was wearing a fitted black T-shirt and blue skinny jeans with white vans. His hair was slicked back, and his bright blue eyes seemed to staring into Harry's soul. The stubble coating his jaw and resting above his lip made Harry's lips quiver, and he wondered how he was going to survive the night.

"Let's get a drink, shall we?" Greg said, leading Harry to the bar. Harry nodded, smiling and trying to hide his nerves. A drink would help with that... hopefully.

"Bourbon!" Greg said to the bartender, a hipster with a long beard and oversized glasses. "Um, same for me," Harry repeated, almost instantly as the bartender looked at him.

"You like bourbon?" Greg asked, raising an eyebrow. "Well, no. I prefer Prosecco. But I'm up for an adventure tonight," Harry admitted. Oh my god... he had not intended a double meaning there! Did he just aggressively flirt with Greg? Within the first minute of the date? bloody hell.

Greg didn't seem to mind one bit though. In fact, he liked it. "Yes, an adventure it will be!" Greg agreed, grabbing his glass and walking back to the table. Harry did the same, blush creeping across his cheeks as he tried to keep his composure.

"So," Greg said, taking a sip of his bourbon. "I don't really like asking what do you study and all that... kinda wanna know about you, like what are you like? What's your energy?" Greg locked eyes with harry, half smiling, as he swirled the bourbon in his mouth.

"I um... kinda personal, don't you think?" Harry replied, laughing nervously. He took a sip of the bourbon, which nearly caused him to spit it out on the spot. It was way too bitter, but he didn't want to be rude, so he swallowed it and then took another sip and did the same.

"Hey, Im not making you nervous am I?" Greg asked, watching amusedly as Harry struggled with his bourbon. His long hair was falling into his eyes and he looked so grungy and carefree. Beautiful, British, delightful.

"I'll start, okay? So I'm like... I don't know I'm an Arizona boy. So I love the the heat. I'm kind of a free spirit, don't really care what other people think of me. And I love music. Indie, as you can tell," he said, pointing to the band.

Harry continued forcing down the bourbon, nearly gagging on it. He still didn't know what to say.

"Um... wow. That's cool. So I'm with you on the music thing. Indie is quite good, especially here in the states. I like all music except that Swedish electro funk shit. Makes me nauseous," Harry stammered, laughing a bit.

"And it looks like that drink is making you nauseous, Harry. Let me get you another," Greg said, grabbing his half finished cup, which Harry was currently eyeing in disgust. "It's not for everyone, don't feel bad."

Greg left and returned a few minutes later with a strawberry mojitos. Much to Harry's embarrassment, it even had a little decorative umbrella in it.

"Harry, is something wrong? Do you not like mojitos either?" Greg asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry looked around be room, gripping the table to steady himself as he became dizzy. It wasn't the mojito that was bothering him — it was this whole thing. The date, with a man.., the girly drink... the sharing his 'energy.' It was all too much, he was in too deep.

"I, Yeah. Yeah. I like mojitos. Sorry. I'm just really, really nervous. I haven't been on a date in a while," Harry admitted, thanking Greg and taking a sip of the mojito. He had never had one before either, but he knew one thing for sure: it was delicious. And he wanted another.

"There's no pressure," Greg said, smiling at Harry. Why did he have to have such a dazzling smile? And be so nice? Harry felt so confused — he wasn't sure what he wanted more: to kiss him, or to run away crying. He felt his chest tighten and took another sip of the drink, hoping his anxiety would lessen.

"I um. So yeah. I like music too. I play guitar sometimes, though I'm not great. I'm an English boy, as you already picked up on," Harry said, laughing nervously. "I really like Chicago so far. Big American city. I love the diners here too. And the barbecue food."

"Barbecue food here is amazing," Greg said in agreement. "Better than in Arizona. Have you ever tried a pulled pork slider?"

Harry shook his head.

"Oh you have to. They have them at the union on Fridays. Even though it's school food, they're amazing," Greg said excitedly. "Okay, Styles. So we both like food and music? What a shock! What else?"

Harry shrugged, finishing off the rest of his mojito. It was so good, He had guzzled it down without even realizing it.

"Movies!" Harry suggested. "Have you seen Black Panther?"

Greg nodded, finishing his bourbon. He winced a bit as it went down, his nose wrinkling from the bitterness. "I did. Bloody amazing. Michael B Jordan sure is cute," he said with a wink.

Harry nodded. "I completely agree," he laughed. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but it was a large determining factor in his decision to see be movie.

"Another round?" Harry asked, feeling a bit calmer after his first drink. "I've got it."

Greg nodded. "someone's moving fast," he said, laughing. "But sure. Do you like tequila?"

"Do I?" Harry asked, smirking. He jogged to the bar and returned with two double shots of gold tequila — not silver , because he still had memories of that one night with Niall when they drank silver tequila (and everclear) and it resulted in the hangover from hell.

"Awesome, thanks," Greg said as he grabbed his. Harry nodded and returned to the booth, setting down salt and LIme.

"Cheers!" He said, raising his glass to Greg's. After kicking the salt, They threw their heads back and downed the shots quickly, shoving the limes into their mouths to help with the taste.

"Awesome!" Greg said giggling as he spit out the lime. "You're a pro."

"I do love tequila," Harry replied, blushing.

"That's wonderful," Greg said, laughing. "So what's your favorite Netflix show?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Two more single shots and a baileys later, Harry was sitting next to Greg in the booth, holding his arm as they engaged in a nonsensical conversation about the politics surrounding Brexit. Harry was happily tipsy, as they eventually slowed down and spaced out their drinks, and he felt completely relaxed when Greg put a hand on his waist, rubbing it softly.

"So then they had This vote and they decided bye were leaving the EU," Harry babbled, curling deeper into Greg's embrace. "And so now we're out and we can't let EU members have work visas anymore and we can't get work visas in Europe and it's all rubbish!"

Greg was giggling now, pretty faded himself, and shook his head in agreement. "That is pretty fucked. They're all... what do you call them? Wankees?" He snickered.

Harry looked at Greg, his eyes widening as he gave him a dramatic look. "Wanker! It's pronounced wanker, Mr. American," Harry said with a chuckle, pretending to slap Greg on the face.

Greg laughed and pushed Harry's hand away, their hands brushing together slightly as he did so. They connected eyes and Harry looked at Greg's mouth.

Without hesitating, Harry leaned forward and climbed onto Greg's chest. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, remembering how Niall had asked Melissa the same.

Greg nodded, leaning forward and allowing Harry to grab his jaw, running his hands over his stubble as their lips connected.

Harry had no idea what he expected kissing a man to be like - but he didn't expect it to be this good. Grabbing onto Greg's strong back, Harry felt a type of arousal he had never been able to feel with a woman. He felt— euphoric, out of control almost. He ran his fingers through Greg's hair and deepened the kiss, feeling himself grow hard on the spot.

He was so fucking gone.

"I, um... Harry," Greg whispered between kisses. Harry was rubbing Greg's crotch now, completely ignoring his social surroundings and the fact that this was a very public place. Right now, nothing else mattered but Greg and his body, and Harry's desire to explore that body. Goodbye to soft, delicate female bodies and hello to rippling muscle, stubble, and sharp jawlines. Harry was fucking ready.

"Harry, um. Let's take it back to my place, okay?" Greg said, removing Harry's hand from his crotch. He was just as hard as Harry was, but not quite as drunk. And this wasn't his first time in the rodeo. He could certainly wait until they got home.

"I'd fucking love that, Greg," Harry answered, climbing off of Greg's chest and separating their bodies. He felt so hungry for more— he had only had a small taste, and it wasn't enough. He wanted he whole god damn cake.

"You're so sexy," Greg cooed, rubbing Harry's back as they exited the booth. Harry nodded, taking Greg's hand — his hand. In public.

Harry had officially crossed the line. And it felt so fucking good.

"You're sexy too," he replied, following Greg out of the bar and onto the moonlit sidewalk. "I need you.... to..." Harry began. He stared at Gregs eyes, not finishing the sentence.

"Need me to what?" Greg asked, kissing Harry's neck. He sucked long and hard, leaving a budding purple mark above to his collar bone.

"Need you to show me," Harry replied, his pupils dilating as he looked down at Greg, wrapping his arms around his waist. "Need you inside me..."


	15. Revelations

As Louis sat in his room Thursday night grading papers, he felt relieved that there finally wasn't a party in Zete for once. Louis would still be drinking tonight, of course, he loved drinking, and he took a sip of a gluten free wine cooler as he went through the papers, jazz music playing softly in the background.

When his glass was empty, Louis sighed and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. He hopped up off his bed and poured another drink, the tensions and stresses of the week melting away as the booze entered his system. Sweet release.

Liam and zayn were out tonight on a date, and Louis was glad they were out of the house, as he could use the alone time. He truly was happy for them — it was he who introduced zayn to Liam and convinced him to take him out — but he would be lying if he said there wasn't a tiny bit of jealousy remaining in his system. Though he would never admit it, his relationship with Liam was the most intimate one he had ever been in. They were mostly fuck buddies, yeah, but he actually cared about Liam and would even cuddle with him and ask how his day went. At one point, as Liam spooned Louis and rubbed his back, he actually began falling for him.

But Louis was a lone wolf, and he started to panic when he realized commitment was on the horizon. Louis just couldn't bring himself to be in a relationship, for various reasons, ranging from his extremely busy schedule to is personal insecurities— insecurities which he usually shoved down with shots and a shake of the hips in his flamboyant outfits. He didn't want to feel those feelings, relive those memories.

So of course, Louis self sabotaged, sleeping around with other guys within the frat, and purposefully being sloppy about it. Naturally, Liam found out, and was quite upset. They had never confirmed they were exclusive, but it was clear they were headed towards exclusivity and it really hurt that Lou felt like he wanted other men.

But liam couldn't stay mad at Louis for long, given their long friendship dating back to first year. And after two weeks of not talking, he eventually came back, on the condition that their relationship would be strictly platonic — no more sleeping together. A few months later, Lou introduced zayn to Liam and the rest was history.... aside from a little residual sexual tension. But they could deal with that, couldn't they?

Now, as Lou sat grading the papers, he thought about the kinds of stuff Zayn and Liam did together. What any couples did together...? And was that something he could even have? Lou was more of a dance at a party or grab a drink at a bar type guy. Not a dinner and movies type guy. And he certainly wasn't the type to keep things exclusive. It just wasn't part of his nature — or rather, it wasn't part of his persona, his current image at uni, which was independent, confident, and promiscuous. Not to mention a natural born leader.

After all, Being the president of Zete came with its consequences. It meant that he was in charge of safety codes and organization and recruitment— not to mention the dozens of parties they hosted throughout the year. It was a stressful job and even more stressful than the logistics was his reputation that he had to upkeep. Sassy, loud, life of the party. People pleaser. And Louis truly was all of those things, most of the time. But being that way all day, all week, all year without a break could take a toll on anyone. And it certainly did on him.

As a result, Louis quickly found himself strung out as he tried to keep up with his image as the lively, unapologetic poster child for Zete and juggle his coursework, job and theatre productions. Sometimes it felt like there was so much to do that he didn't even have time for himself, but day in and day out he put on a smile and chipped away at his responsibilities. He wasn't a quitter.

Sighing, Louis took another sip of his wine cooler and flipped through his stack of papers, hoping he would come across something that wasn't clearly written the hour before it was due. The reflections he was grading were barely a percentage of the grade, but as usual, he had lied to his students about it in an attempt to get them to take his course more seriously.

Flipping through the pile of poorly written, barely half a page long essays, Louis came across a longer one, which stood out because of its use high vocabulary and great detail. He smiled as he skimmed it and looked up at the name. Who wrote such a master piece? Louis wondered. The name on the page, however, was not what he expected.

Harry Styles.

Louis blinked at the paper, his stomach flip flopping as he thought of Harry. His long chestnut tresses, his big emerald eyes, his long, beautiful body. He was a god, if louis ever saw one, though he would never admit it.

Louis remembered how had told Liam he didn't want to be with Harry because Harry was in his experimental phase, and he wanted more of a challenge. That was true, and it definitely deterred him a bit. But truthfully, it was not enough to write Harry off right away. What really got Louis' blood boiling about Harry was his personality - he was the innocent type, full of nerves and anxiety, always wanting to say the right thing. Based on the conversation louis had with him at the Theta party, harry seemed like he needed to be coddled — taken care of even.

And clearly, Louis didn't have time to take care of anyone right now — not even himself. So with anyone else, He wouldn't even have considered it at all. But with harry, it was different. Though he would never tell anyone, Louis found Harry truly irresistible. In fact, ever the moment Louis laid eyes on him that night after dancing in his sparkly pink shorts— the tall, gorgeous man with the long hair and quirky smile—he knew that he would do anything for him.

And that's what terrified him.

Sighing, Louis shook his head as he read Harry's name on the page and resisted the urge to draw a little heart or smiley face next to it as he grew more tipsy. He opened a tiny one shot bottle of Smirnoff, downing it, and then wrote up His evaluation of Harry's essay.

'Great attention to detail and wonderful essay structural. I can tell you put a lot of work into this," he jotted down, circling and undermining a few key arguments that Harry presented.

"Ideas for improvement: don't be afraid to use 'I' and really assert your opinion. We don't want you to be neutral," Louis wrote, though it was blatantly clear that he was referring to something else.

Happy with his work, Louis put the stack of papers aside and tossed the plastic Smirnoff bottle into the bin. To his misfortune, it was piled high with other bottles and cans, most of which were lite beers and diet sodas. Louis knew Liam would be on his case if he came in here and found the mess of bottles, evidence of how bad his binge drinking had become lately. Liam was always nagging Louis about his alcohol consumption, telling him he was getting out of control and should see someone. But Louis didn't buy that baloney for a second. He was completely in control; yeah, he drank five nights a week, but never to the point of throwing up, and never during the day. He wasn't an alcoholic for Christ's sake....

Annoyed, Louis stumbled out of bed, sliding on a pair of fuzzy slippers and went to take out the garbage. He wasn't in the mood for a lecture tonight — or tomorrow — and his room needed cleaning anyways.

It was about 1am at this point, and Louis was tired and bleary eyed, not to mention tipsy. He made his way down the stairs, to the basement of the building where the dumpers were, tossed the trash, and then climbed back up, hiccuping a bit from all the booze.

To his surprise, when he came back to the fourth floor, he noticed someone in the hallway. A tall, lanky body was exiting his neighbors apartment — a group of three or four guys from uni lived there and rented it out. Louis figured it was just one of them, stepping out for a cigarette or something, but when he got closer he realized it wasn't. As he reached the end of the hall where his apartment was, he came face to face with the man, whose hair was toussled and clothes were wrinkled and clearly put back on lazily— he was clearly embarking on a walk of shame.

Louis shook his head, giggling to himself as he unlocked his door. But then, when he turned to the side, catching a glimpse of the man in his periphery.

Oh my god.

It was Harry.


	16. Firsts

After Harry and Greg left the bar to go back to Greg's place, Harry was so eager and excited he could hardly think straight. Holding Greg's hand, Harry speed walked down the dimly lit city streets and to a building that looked awfully familiar. Could it be? No it couldn't be... but it was. It was the Zete building.

Harry felt a pang of guilt stinging in his stomach as they reached the back steps--steps where he had sat and cried on Niall's shoulder over Louis not too long ago. Louis. Fuck, just thinking about Louis was making Harry's boner go down. He couldn't think about that, now. Louis rejecting him, Louis picking him to act in the play -- it was all just so cruel, so tantalizing. It was as if Louis knew how interested Harry was in him and was just messing with him purposefully, teasing him without any intention of ever actually getting with him.

No, fuck Louis, Harry thought. He was spending the night with Greg, and Louis would not be getting in the way of that.

Leaning forward, Harry grabbed Greg harshly by the hips. Harry locked eyes with Greg, the blue color glimmering beneath the overhead light, and pushed him roughly against the front door, kissing his neck passionately.

"Let's get inside, Curly," Greg breathed, nearly moaning. Harry nodded, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth curled into a devious smile. He took Greg's hand and followed him upstairs. One, two, three flights of stairs. They were on the fourth floor -- the Zete floor. Fuck.

As soon as the apartment door opened, Greg rushed Harry to his bedroom, the first door on the left, and began taking his shirt off. Harry followed suit, ripping ravenously at his own shirt and pants until he was fully naked.

Greg was naked now too, and his chiseled body looked like something out of a sports illustrated magazine. Harry started to feel a bit embarrassed in comparison. Harry was fit, yeah, but not as fit as Greg, whose arms rippled with dense muscle and veins. Maybe he should have been hitting the gym more.

Greg, however, had no problem with Harry's body, and didn't hesitate to push Harry onto the couch, their naked bodies grazing against each other. Greg started kissing Harry, sending small chills down Harry's spine as he realized it was finally fucking happening. He was finally going to have sex with a guy -- and not just any guy. A hot , beautiful man named Greg with a six pack and big blue eyes and a sexy beard. Fuck.

Without warning, Greg cupped Harry's balls, causing him to moan softly. Harry gripped Greg's back in response, his fingernails digging into the hard, muscly flesh beneath him. Smiling sexily, Greg stopped kissing Harry and began to work his way down, kissing his neck, and then moving down to his chest, his stomach, and finally his hip bones, leaving soft purple marks in each area.

Greg then grabbed Harry's shaft, sliding it into his mouth and suctioning it harshly. Harry moaned and tugged at Greg's shaggy hair. "Fuck," he breathed. "So good." Greg continued to suck, deepening the blow job with every stroke until Harry felt ready to explode with desire. He had received his fair share of blow jobs before, but nothing quite compared to this.

When Greg finished his work, he slunk back up to Harry, smiling at him. "Ready?" he asked, reaching for a condom on the dresser. Harry watched as he slid it on, the tan rubber stretching across his massive dick. Greg had to be at least 9 inches, slightly bigger than Harry's 8 inches, and Harry swallowed nervously as he realized what was about to happen.

He wanted it. He so wanted it... but, was it going to hurt? Would it be painful? Should he tell him this was his first time?

"Hey, um. Do you have any lube?" Harry asked anxiously, toying with the bracelet on his wrist.

"Of course," Greg replied. The muscles on his back contracted as he fished around in his drawer, and he came back up shortly after with a bottle of KY jelly. Strawberry flavored.

"I...um... sorry to kill the mood," Harry continued, his voice breaking. "I really want to do this, I just want to make it clear that it's my first time... so I don't really know what I'm doing..."

Greg looked at Harry, his face softening from a smirk to a sincere look of concern. "Okay. No worries. We'll take it slow, then," he replied, understandingly. "Just communicate. Let me know what feels good and what doesn't, okay?"

Harry nodded, turning onto his stomach and raising his hips. He was so fucking horny, so fucking charged up for this. He felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins, his muscles relaxing and his anxiety dissipating.

"Ready," Harry whispered, turning to face Greg. Greg nodded, slowly sliding a finger into Harry's ass. Harry closed his eyes, wrinkling his nose as he felt the cold lube. As Greg began to ease his finger in and out, quickening the pace, Harry felt discomfort, followed by a gradual pleasure.

By the end, Greg had inserted three fingers and was going at a rapid pace. "Is this good?" he asked, rubbing the small of Harry's back.

"Perfect," Harry purred, smiling.

"Okay. I'm gonna go inside you now," Greg said, removing his fingers. He climbed on top of Harry, his muscular legs pressing against Harry's hips. Slowly, he inserted his shaft, the cool lube tickling a bit as he made his way inside. Then, he started thrusting at a steady pace, his crotch slapping against Harry's ass with each stroke.

What the fuck was this?

Harry felt his breathing hitch and his heart rate quicken as Greg penetrated him, the pleasure growing more and more as he quickened his pace. The sensation was indescribable -- Harry was used to being the one doing the penetrating, never the one being fucked. It felt so nice, with Greg riding him, gripping his ass, rubbing his back. Harry loved being pleased like this.

"Harry, fuck," Greg breathed, a little while later. "I'm gonna come."

Harry started to turn red and he turned to watch Greg, pulling out and moaning as he filled the condom. With his head back and his eyes closed, Greg looked absolutely gorgeous, and Harry felt an orgasm of his own building.

"Fuck, I don't know where to come!" he yelled, panicked. He didn't want to get his cum all over Greg's bed, but there wasn't really anywhere else to do it, so he leaned forward and allowed himself to come, trying to catch the liquid in his hands as it fell.

Greg chuckled from where he lay on the other side of the bed. "It's fine," he said, motioning for Harry to come cuddle with him. Harry blushed, wiping up the mess as best he could and crawling over to Greg.

"How was it for your first time?" Greg asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry beamed, his pupils dilating. "Absolutely amazing!" he giggled.

"Quite proper amazing?" Greg asked, mocking his accent. "Fuck, that accent turns me on."

Harry laughed. "You turn me on, with those muscles. You work out?" he asked, making a flirty face.

"Yeah, I play soccer," Greg replied. He turned to Harry, rubbing his waist gently, and cocked an eyebrow. "You ready for round two?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~When Harry finally left Greg's at about 1am, they had had three rounds of sex, two of which resulted in mutual coming, eaten bowls of cereal and watched an episode of Shameless. Now, as Harry stumbled out of the apartment, clad in crumpled clothing and sex hair, he wasn't expecting to see anyone.

He had just texted Niall giving him a heads up he was coming home, and was closing the door to Greg's apartment quietly, when he saw someone come down the hall. Immediately, Harry began to tense up, realizing that the man was headed this way -- and that it could very well be one of the frat guys who lived in the suite across the hall.

Harry froze in his tracks, watching in horror as the body made it's way towards him. Holy fuck it was, Lou! He didn't seem to see him though, until he got to his door, and turned around to face Harry.

Fuck.

"Harry, is that you?" Louis asked, raising an eyebrow. His voice was a little bit raspy and he looked a bit tipsy, based on the way he was swaying a bit as he walked. He wasn't wearing his usual attire either. Instead of flashy and colorful clothes, he had on a pair of joggers and a black oversized T-shirt. He still looked gorgeous all the same.

"Yeah, hey," Harry stammered, unsure what to do.

"What are you doing here?" Louis asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Or WHO were you doing here, rather?"

Harry blushed. Was it really that obvious? Well, probably. He rubbed at the hickey on his neck. Fuck....

"I... I was hanging out with this guy Greg," Harry said slowly, his voice deepening.

Louis nodded. "Nice, bloke. The soccer guy, right? He's quite hot," Louis said, folding his arms across his chest. "How was it?"

"I.. um. Louis, it's rather private," Harry said, shooting him a concerned look. "And you're my TA and all. I don't want to discuss this with you..."

Louis' face fell when Harry said that, and he tried to hide his wounded expression, but Harry could tell he was hurt. That was kind of a harsh thing to say. TA or not, he was still another student, and they were acquaintances through Liam.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Harry said, putting a hand on Louis' shoulder.

Louis pushed Harry's hand off harshly. "Save it, Styles. You're right. It's unprofessional of me to ask," he said, laughing and rolling his eyes. He was a good actor, but even he couldn't pull off trying to appear unbothered right now. He may as well have been painted green with envy.

"Louis... I, honestly... was interested in you for a while," Harry said softly. "But you didn't seem interested back. So I went on Tinder."

Louis stared at Harry, nausea racking his body. Did Harry really just say that, or was it the wine coolers talking?

"Alright, Harry," Louis replied with a nod. "I'm not quite sure what to do with that information. But like you said, I'm you're TA, so it wouldn't have worked anyways. I have to go now, if you don't mind. So have a good night."

Harry stared at Louis, kicking himself for admitting his feelings. But at the same time, he didn't regret it... Louis was trying to pretend he didn't care, didn't feel the same way. But Harry could see pain in those pretty blue eyes -- pain he was responsible for -- and he just knew that Louis was lying.

"Good night, Louis," Harry replied, nodding. He watched Louis enter his apartment and close the door. But he didn't walk away just yet. He stood there for a minute, taking in what had just happened, wondering if he should have slept with Greg -- or if he should have waited for the one he really wanted.


	17. Plans

"Haz!" Niall called. It was Friday morning -- nearly 9:30am now and Harry still wasn't up yet for his 10am class. "Are you going to class?" he whispered, tapping Harry lightly on the shoulder. 

Harry immediately jolted, his eyes popping open as he felt Niall touch him. "Yeah, I'm up, I'm up," he stammered. Last night had been so wild he had forgotten to set an alarm. 

Last night. 

Fuck. Harry felt a wave of nausea as he made his way out of bed and towards his dressers--and he wasn't sure if it was excitement or anxiety that was making him queasy. He should be excited, right? He finally got with a guy -- and he LIKED it. He was finally certain that he was bi. It was a life milestone, really. 

But he also felt guilty for some reason. Guilty that it hadn't been with Louis. Guilty that it happened so fast -- that he had been so easy. Guilty that maybe he made a mistake. 

Harry felt his vision go blurry and reached onto the dresser for support, his breathing quickening and his muscles going limp. 

"Mate, are you okay?" Niall asked, worriedly, watching his roommate start to fall. 

Harry was shaking now, nearly hyperventilating. The more he tried to breathe normally, the more abnormal his breathing became. He had dominated last night in the bedroom, but now he was completely helpless, out of control. 

"Fuck," Harry wheezed. "I ... Think... I'm having.... eh.. um... panic attack..."

Niall's eyes widened and he stared at Harry, unsure what to do. "Should I call public safety, then?" he asked, helping Harry to the bed. He put a hand under his armpit and walked him over. 

Harry shook his head, reaching for a water bottle with a shaky hand. His eyes were tearing now and he sat on the bed, nausea racking his body for a second time. Wordlessly, he rose from the bed, stumbling into the kitchen and vomiting into the sink. It felt like the post-Everclear hangover, but more intense and without any of the humor. 

Niall followed him into the bathroom, patting him on the back and handing him a water. Harry's face was red, but he was breathing better now and took a seat on the toilet seat, resting his face in his palms. 

Niall kneeled down next to him, stroking his back softly. "Are you alright?" he asked softly. He was still in just his boxers, as he was in the process of changing when Harry started panicking. 

"Yeah," Harry nodded, taking a sip of the water. His green eyes were still watering, but Niall tried not to draw attention to it. He was probably just emotional after such an unpleasant experience. 

"I haven't had one in years... I don't know. I just got triggered," Harry explained to Niall, running a hand through his sweaty locks. 

"What triggered you? Was it me?" Niall asked, confused. All Harry had done was get out of bed and then it happened.

"No... I..." Harry began to turn pale, shaking his head shamefully. "I don't feel okay about last night. With Greg. I feel so good knowing that I've done it. I've experimented and I really do understand my sexuality now. But it's so overwhelming... like... there's no questions now... and it really is probable I may end up with a man, and I don't know if that's what I really want... what I need.... and on top of that, I saw Louis last night. He was Greg's neighbor of all things... I feel guilty for giving up my virginity -- well anal virginity -- so quickly. For this guy I hardly know... when I wanted to get to know Louis..."

Niall nodded, rubbing Harry's shoulder gently with his slow hands. "It's okay, mate. It's tough, it's a confusing time," he replied. 

Harry nodded, locking eyes with Niall and biting his lip. It was a confusing time. He was so confused about so many things -- where he stood with Louis, where he stood with Greg, how he was doing at the university, what he wanted to do after he graduated next year. It was all too much, too fast, too intense. 

"Listen, Harry. Why don't you go back to bed and rest? And later, maybe you can chat with Zayn. He really understands what it's like to be confused, he's been through it too. Would you wanna do that?" Niall asked with a smile. 

Harry nodded, his big green eyes making him look almost childlike as he looked up at Niall, who was kneeling before him. This was the only time Niall would be taller than him. 

"Yeah, I think that works," Harry said, getting up from the toilet and heading back to his bed. "I'm gonna go to maths though, Ni. I'm fine." 

Niall watched him skeptically as he packed his backpack and changed, heading towards the door a few minutes later. "Have a good class, mate," Niall called to him. "And let me know if you need anything."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~As he passed the back stoop, climbed the four flights of stairs, and knocked on the door of the Zete apartment, Harry thought he was going to have a panic attack all over again. After Niall had texted Zayn, Zayn assured him that no one would be home but him and Liam and that they were more than happy to chat with him about how things were going.

But Harry still couldn't help but feel hyperviligant, searching the corridor for Louis -- or even Greg -- as he waited for Zayn to answer the door. Last night had truly left him scarred. 

So Harry stood in the doorway, toying with the buttons on his red and blue Hawaiian shirt, which he had paired with black skinny jeans and vans. It wasn't his favorite outfit, but he was running out of clean clothes this week, and the panic attacked had temporarily stunned his fashion senses.

"Hey, Harry, how are you?" Zayn said a few seconds later upon opening the door. 

"Hey, I'm good," Harry said, leaning in to hug him. Were they really on that level now? He didn't know, but Zayn had initiated the hug, so he figured it was best to just go with it. 

"Hey, Harry," Liam said, entering the door frame behind Liam. He offered Harry a chest bump, which nearly sent him flying, and then the three guys headed into the apartment for their chat.

"Wow, it looks so different without a party happening," Harry said, chuckling as he looked at the fancy furniture that was laid out in what was usually an empty dance room. 

"Yeah, we put away all our good furniture when people come over," Zayn said with a laugh. "Louis would die if they trashed his glass coffee table."

Harry nodded, his stomach tightening at the mention of Louis. Were they certain he wouldn't be coming home soon?

"So, can I get you something to drink? I'm making coffee," Liam offered, heading into the kitchen, where his Keurig was currently heating up. 

"Sure, thanks," Harry said with a nod. Zayn motioned for Harry to follow him into the living room, and they each took a seat on a soft green couch situated by the back windows. 

"So, what's new?" Zayn asked, his soft brown eyes connecting with Harry's brown ones. Harry squirmed in his seat, wondering whether this was a hangout or a therapy session. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to share.

"I, well. I hooked up with a guy. Greg," Harry began, pointing towards the hall. Zayn's eyes instantly lit up in recognition. "Greg, like soccer Greg?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry nodded. "That's the one," he replied. "We got drinks at a bar and I got a little tipsy and started kissing him in the booth. We took things back to his place, and well. It was my first time."

Harry looked at the floor, examining the dirt coating the bottom of one of his Vans, while he waited for Zayn to respond. He was too embarrassed to look at him. 

Zayn noticed how tense Harry was and decided not to press further, hoping the silence would be enough to prompt Harry to continue. But he just kept staring at his sneakers, so Zayn shrugged and asked him softly: "How do you feel now about it?" 

The question seemed to have set off a wild fire.

"I... that's the thing. I don't know. I liked it, I really enjoyed it. But I feel so conflicted because it's like: is this who I am now? I spent so many years of my life thinking of myself a certain way, and now that's all changed... now I'm bi... or at least I think I am... but what does that mean? I'm not sure I want to keep exploring or not... because I'm so confused already," Harry spewed, barely coming up for breath. 

Liam was coming in with the coffee now, and set the cups down on the glass coffee table -- Louis' glass coffee table -- watching carefully as Harry vented to Zayn. 

"Sorry, lads. I didn't mean to interrupt. Do you mind if I join, Harry? Or do you just want to be alone with Zayn?" he asked carefully, unable to read the expression on Harry's face. He was just sitting their, his hands folded in his lap, as he stared at the coffee table. 

"Yeah, no. Come join. Thanks for the coffee," Harry said, robotically. He was still staring at the coffee table, images of Louis' glittery body dancing through his mind's eye.

"I heard a bit of what you said. It sounds like an existential crisis. Like you're not sure what you are, or how things will end up for you. I can say, that over the years, I've begun to identify more with gay than bi," Liam admitted. "But it takes time. And nothing is ever set in stone. I think you're putting a lot of pressure on yourself."

Zayn smiled at Liam, resisting the urge to give his hip a small squeeze, and nodded. "Yeah," he told Harry, his expression becoming more serious. "I, personally, feel more connected to people than to genders. And I don't like to label myself. Labels are what made me freak out, and it seems like that's what's causing you to freak out too. I think just be with who you wanna be with, you know. There's no rules, no black and white. No right or wrong."

Harry nodded, relaxing into the couch more as he took in the boys' advice. They certainly had a point -- labels made things more complicated. And he never really was one for labels anyways. Even back in high school, he never fit any of the stereotypes or cliques of students. He was sort of a nerd because of his love for math, but he also liked music. He was athletic, too, but not over the top athletic. And he enjoyed creative writing. He was sort of an enigma, a butterfly with too many patterns and colors to be categorized into one single species. 

"That's all really great advice, mates," Harry said, smiling a bit. "Thank you, truly. But Zayn, you were saying to be with who i want to be with. What if I can't?" 

Zayn raised an eyebrow, confused. "You want to be with my Liam?" he joked, putting an arm around him.

Harry smirked. "Very funny," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"Louis, you fool," Liam chimed in, pretending to elbow Zayn in the crotch.

Zayn blushed. How could he forget? Louis was all Harry could talk about during the last party, and even if he hadn't, the mesmerized look he gave him was a dead give away.

"Right. Well, we can't speak for Louis. But you can try talking to him? Maybe just get coffee to get to know him," Zayn suggested. Liam nodded, eagerly, envisioning the perfect power couple emerging -- all his doing of course.

"Yeah... well. I ruined that. He saw me last night, leaving Greg's," Harry said. His face was turning a vibrant shade of pink and he was laughing, but Liam could see small tears forming near the sides of his eyes. 

"Oh, shit," Liam replied, frowning. "Well that's fine. He sleeps around too. He shouldn't judge."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But he seemed upset... I don't know..." he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck gingerly. 

"Haz, I think you're overthinking things here," Zayn said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Louis loves confidence. He's always saying he wants a challenge, but really, he wouldn't mind someone taking care of him. He does so much already, with theatre and Zete and his job. Show him you care, yeah? I promise, he'll warm right up."

"I, yeah, I guess that makes sense," Harry said. He picked at a cuticle a bit, trying to decide when would be a good time -- if at all to do that. 

"It does," Liam added. "Just ask him to coffee or one of those jazz nights. I'm sure he'll appreciate the gesture. And if he says he can't because you're his students -- that's bullshit. He's banged students in the past. So don't let him get off too easy."

Harry laughed, nervously, wondering how that information was suppose to make him feel any better.

"Don't tell him that, Li," Zayn tutted as he rolled his eyes at his overzealous boyfriend. "Louis is hard to figure out. But when you do--"

"Louis what???" A voice echoed through the apartment, followed by the sound of a door slamming. 

All three boys remained frozen in their seats, staring at each other in horror. 

Fuck.


	18. Tell Me

"Why are you all staring at me?" Louis asked, a pouty smile perched on his lips. "I mean I know my arse looks good in these shorts, but there has to be another reason..."

Liam snorted, shaking his head. Zayn laughed along, nervously, observing the way Liam's eyes lingered on Louis' shorts a little too long. He never checked Zayn out like that...

"Were you talking about me?" Louis asked, resting his hands on his hips. His lime green tanktop fit tightly on his chest, accentuating his pec muscles.

"No," Zayn replied, rolling his eyes. "We were just having coffee with Harry."

Harry, who had been silent the entire time, awkwardly waved at Louis, his green eyes oversized and cartoonish in the living room lighting.

"Hi," Harry said weakly.

"Hello, Harold," Louis replied, coldly, his icy blue eyes narrowing slightly. Images of Harry's toussled hair and crumpled clothes from last night began to replay in his head and he resisted the urge to wince or at least frown a little. Louis Tomlinson never shows weakness.

"Have you come to see Greg?" Louis continued, snickering. Liam shot Louis an apalled look, widening his eyes and putting his hands up defensively.

"No," he answered, standing up. "Harry's here to talk about, you know, discovering his sexuality. And you of all people should know Zete is a safe space. No need to make jokes about things."

Harry's face instantly turned bright red and he stared daggers into Liam. Some friend he was, throwing him under the bus like that. Did he not understand that the conversation was private?

"Oh knock it off," Louis said, shaking his head in Liam's direction. He tossed off his converse sneakers and hopped onto the couch next to Zayn. "I'm the one who trained you two for these kinds of discussions. Alright, Harry, let's have a go. What's on your mind?"

Harry stared at Louis, his heart beating wildly beneath his too-tight shirt. He should never have chosen to wear this. It was ill-fitting and itchy. He tugged at the collar, bracing himself for another panic attack--this time, Louis-induced.

"Fuck off," Zayn snapped. "Can't you see he's panicking? He doesn't want to share with you. We were talking in private. Though I guess Liam didn't get that memo...." he glared at his boyfriend, who had clearly caused this whole mess. Liam always meddled too much in other peoples' business.

"Okay, okay," Louis said, putting his hands in the air like he had just been arrested. "Sorry I said anything. Sorry I upset you, Harry. I'll go."

As Louis turned leave, however, he felt an arm grab him from behind. Thinking it was Zayn, he had half a mind to knee him in the bullocks. But the hand was larger and more gentle. It was Harry's.

"No," Harry said, his hand trembling as he gripped Louis' bicep. "Stay. Do stay. Sorry I'm acting all weird. My head's not right." 

Liam and Zayn stared at the spectacle in awe, as there was clearly so much built up sexual tension between the Harry and Louis. Harry was staring down at Louis with those big emerald eyes shaking like a newborn fawn, and Louis was looking back, offering Harry a smoldering gaze. 

Things were truly at a standstill, and for the first time in his life, Louis found himself at a loss for words. He wanted to say something snarky. Make a sassy comment. Even make fun of Harry a little. But he couldn't. He could only stand there and stare into those green eyes and trace those cherry lips in his mind and wonder what they would feel like against his pink ones... and suddenly his heart was beating and his palms were sweating and he was nervous. Louis Tomlinson, nation-renowned actor, teacher, and fraternity president, was feeling nervous. It was truly a sight to be seen.

"I, um, okay," Louis stammered, breaking the tension. Harry nodded, wordlessly, and pulled his arm away, taking his seat next to Zayn. Louis sat on the other side of Zayn, folding his legs pretzel style.

"Alright, Styles. Speak to me," Louis said, regaining his domineering attitude. He was still shaken, but he didn't want his mates to know that.

Harry nodded and took a deep breath. Maybe this hadn't been the best plan after all. But he had just called Louis back to continue the discussion, and it would be ridiculous if he didn't at least say something.

Fuck it.

"Well," Harry began, picking his cuticle once again. "Zayn and Liam were saying how it's best not to put labels on myself. And I think that's right because that's what was really freaking me out. After last night, I knew I liked men, but I didn't know what that meant --- for the future. Or what that says about me, and I panicked. Literally, I had a panic attack and probably gave Niall a heart attack in the process..."

"I see," Louis replied. He had spoken to dozens of students on campus about issues like this through Zete's LGBT counseling program, and he had several prepared responses for concerns like this. But none of that seemed right to say to Harry.

"Hey, I'm gonna make myself another coffee," Zayn said quickly before Louis had time to reply. He was feeling like the third wheel, sitting between Louis and Harry, and if he was being honest, he wanted to talk to Liam about the way he had been looking at Louis. This wasn't the first time it had happened.

"I'll join, yeah? Cheers!" Liam said, as if on cue. He hopped up and followed Zayn into the kitchen, jogging a little to catch up with him. Louis said not to play the matchmaker, but it looked like the match had already been made. Liam was just giving them some alone time.

With Zayn and Liam gone, Louis moved closer to Harry on the couch, shifting into a kneeling position. The air was still and the only sound that could be heard was the whirring of the Keurig in the kitchens

"I think it's perfectly natural to be nervous about it," Louis said, half smiling. "Lord knows I was. I mean, who would think? Me, all sassy and with my big mouth. But I was. In high school, it was a different time back then. And where I lived was very conservative. I was terrified I'd get made fun of."

Harry nodded, looking up at Louis in surprise. He never really thought about Louis having to come at as gay. He sort of just assumed he floated down to the earth with a big rainbow parachute.

"So, yeah, it got me nervous. But then I realized that being gay was actually a blessing. Because it forced me to grow up a bit earlier. It showed me how to recognize toxic friends amongst the fakes. Who my real supporters were, and who just wasn't worth my time," Louis continued, toying with the fabric on the couch. "And I can tell you, there's nothing more uncomfortable than suppressing who you are. Even if you don't know who you are yet, you'll figure it out. But always be unapologetically yourself, in every stage of self-discovery. No matter what others say. They don't matter. It's your journey, Harry."

Harry, nearly teary eyed, nodded as Louis shared his advice. Nothing had ever hit so close to home before. He had been feeling a certain way for so long, but had never been able to describe it, to put it into words even. He tried to write it down in journals or string out verses of music, but it never turned out the way he intended it. Something always got lost between his head and the paper. But Louis had captured everything perfectly. Every bit of his identity crisis, every fear he'd been internalizing.

How does he know me so fucking well? Harry wondered. They were such different people -- Harry, mellow and aloof, Louis, loud and sassy. But they both felt the same way, they both had similar experiences.

Maybe this is what finding your best friend like. Or maybe even something more.

"I, yeah," Harry replied, coughing a bit. "Honestly, that's exactly what I've been feeling. I've been holding it back -- for so long. I didn't even realize it until now, but nothing ever felt right. I always felt a bit off, a bit unhappy. And I just, I guess I got tired of that discomfort. And after years, I finally gave it a try. It's just liberating -- but at the same time I'm scared. I want to go back to the way things were, but you're right. I have to be myself, I have to allow myself to be myself. It's just... fuck, it's just so hard...."

Harry was crying now, tears running down his cheeks as he shared the innermost workings of his heart with Louis. His face was blotchy and his eyes were tinged with red, but he still looked beautiful. And Louis wanted to kiss him, then and there, tears and all.

But he didn't. He reached out his arms, and hugged him, wrapping Harry into a warm embrace, a mixture of comfort and safety and understanding. "I know," Louis said, rubbing Harry's back in slow circles. "It's okay. I know."

Harry didn't even feel embarrassed for crying all over Louis. If anything, he felt relieved. Relieved about a nearly 6 year secret he had been trying to hold back. Relieved that someone felt the same way. Relieved that he wasn't alone in this.

As he stroked Harry's back, Louis rested his chin on the crook of Harry's neck, breathing in his soft floral scent and wishing he had met Harry so much sooner in life. Out of all his time in uni, he never met someone he cared for so much -- that he could get so close to. Except maybe Liam. But even with Liam, he was always a bit guarded and cagey. And he certainly never felt this connected.

Harry was special.

After a while, Harry finally stopped crying and pulled away from Louis, staring at him with his red rimmed eyes. "I'm sorry," he sniffled. He wiped his nose on his wrist like a child, which made Louis chuckle quietly.

"It's okay, Harry. It's quite okay. It's an emotional time, yeah?" he said encouragingly, patting his thigh. It was lean and strong. Sturdy.

"Yeah. Thank you so much, though. Really. And thanks to Liam and Zayn too, they also helped," Harry said, smiling slightly. "I just, I'm really wrung out. I feel embarrassed for crying. I'd better go...."

He went to leave but Louis cast him a longing look, jutting out his bottom lip. "Where do you have to be tonight? The strip club?" he asked, his sassy tone making a re-appearance. "Stay for dinner, yeah? I mean, if you want..."

Harry shrugged. He didn't have anywhere to be, but he just felt so mortified for what had just happened. He definitely overshared.

"Styles," Louis said softly, observing Harry's tensed body language. "You're not gonna leave this flat and never talk to me again are you? There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I've cried loads of times over smaller things -- even ask Li and Zayn. And some of it was for acting, yeah, but most times it wasn't. I don't think any less of you."

Harry smiled, imaging Louis practicing crying in a mirror for some sort of tragic play. Maybe he had a point. Everyone cries, right?

"Alright," Harry said, standing up. "But let's keep this between you and me. And also, I vote that we NEVER EVER have a crying unit in your class because I will drop out."

Louis laughed, getting up and leading Harry to the kitchen. "As you wish," Louis giggled. "I'll just make sure to include a stage kissing unit instead...." 

A/N: WTF did I do here lol okay. I guess this happened. I have been inspired by some very emotional writing pieces I've read recently where people just start pouring out their emotions so I guess this is why I made this scene so messy and emotional.

Also, I myself am not part of the LGBT community, and I've never struggled with my sexuality, so I am sorry if this is not an accurate portrayal of that. I'm pulling from friends' experiences and TV shows. Let me know if it's not good or doesn't make sense.

Anyways I have been learning a lot of British English by watching British TV so expect more of that. Bullocks = balls by the way. We HAVE TO BE AUTHENTIC HERE YO

lol too much caffeine. or not enough. farewell

-S


	19. Pizza

"Oh my god, what is that?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow as Liam set the pizza box on the table and opened it up. Inside, instead of a normal, thin crust pizza, was a 4-inch thick circle that looked more like an actual pie than a pizza pie.

"Welcome to Chicago, lad!" Zayn said with a grin, slapping a hand on Harry's back.

"Have you never had deep dish before?" Louis asked, smirking at Harry as he passed plates around the table.

"I-- no. I haven't. I don't even know what deep dish is... but I guess it's this," Harry replied with a nervous laugh.

"It's Chicago style pizza. Thick crust, deep dish. You'll like it, trust me," Liam said, taking a seat next to Zayn. Harry took a seat next to Zayn as well, and Louis filled the empty seat between Liam and Harry. It almost felt like a double date -- only Harry and Louis weren't dating. At least not yet.

But much to his own discomfort, Louis' mind was taking him there, to an alternative universe where he didn't have commitment issues and was happily dating Harry, enjoying pizza nights and movie outings and cuddles. It was something so foreign to him -- so silly even. Yet for whatever reason, it felt exactly right with Harry.

After sitting down, the boys began to each take a slice, a rather messy process given the sheer thickness of the pie, not to mention the dripping, gooey cheese. Once everyone was served, they all stared at Harry, waiting for him to try his first ever deep dish, a rite of passage for U of Chicago students -- especially foreign exchange students like Harry, who had likely never tried it before.

Harry struggled with the slice, unsure how to hold it. He ultimately decided to squeeze it together like a burrito, and started to eat the cheesy part first.

"No!" Zayn cried. "You have to eat the crush first. It's a ritual."

Harry looked up, realizing no one else had touched their pizza yet. "Are you wankers all staring at me?" he pouted, furrowing his brows. "Stop. Go on, eat."

The boys started to eat theirs, crust first as Zayn had instructed, but not without glancing in Harry's direction. Harry stared at the crust, unsure how he was going to eat this without making a mess. If he was hanging out with Niall -- or even Liam or Zayn -- he wouldn't care at all about getting sauce all over his face. But with Louis there, it was hard not to feel self-conscious. After all, he had already cried all over the lad. He didn't want to embarrass himself further.

Sighing, Harry took a big bite of the crust, quickly chewing it and washing it down with water.

"What do you think?" Louis asked, nudging his shoulder playfully. Harry resisted the urge to blush and cleared his throat. "It's good. Doughy!" he said with a smile. Hopefully, there was no crust in his teeth.

"Alright, go on, try the cheesy part now," Liam said, continuing to devour his slice, which was already halfway gone.

Harry nodded and tugged at his collar, feeling a bit pressured by how demanding they were being about the way he ate this god forsaken monster pizza. It was quite a bit odd, if you asked him...

Louis munched on his own slice, watching Harry carefully as he worked his way onto the cheese. It was quite a hilarious sight to see. The cheese was sliding off the pizza, and Harry was attempting to put it back on. When that didn't work, he slid it into his mouth, which resulted in a huge string of cheese stretching from his pizza to his mouth.

Red faced, Harry struggled to eat the cheese strand, but it was taking too long, so he ripped it off, nearly dismantling his pizza in the process. Louis was trying not to react because he knew it would make Harry's dimply cheeks turn red and get him all worked up again, but it was just so funny. He couldn't help but burst out giggling.

Zayn and Liam looked over and started laughing too, and Harry stared back at them, abashed and ashamed, like a person in a sushi joint who just had to ask for a fork because they can't use the chopsticks.

"Oh, come on Harry. We're just messing with you," Louis wheezed between giggles. "You look so cute when you try to eat the deep dish. I wish I took a picture!"

Cute. Did he say cute?

When Harry heard that, he couldn't help but crack a smile and start laughing with the rest of the guys. It was pretty funny after all. And based on what he saw when he looked around the table -- Liam suctioning up the slice like a vacuum, Zayn nibbling it in really tiny bites, and Louis casually munching on it like a carrot stick -- it seemed like nobody really knew how to eat Chicago deep dish after all.

"It's bloody good, I'll admit that," Harry said, finally catching his breath after all the laughing.

Zayn nodded. "That's why we got it," he replied. "I remember the first time I tried it when I was a fresher. I dropped the bloody thing on the floor -- but I still ate it!"

Liam rolled his eyes, putting an arm around Zayn. "That's why I'm dating him. I love a man who eats food off the floor. Saves the environment," he said, chuckling.

Harry laughed and looked at Louis, who seemed to be eyeing Liam in a weird way as he watched him rub Zayn's shoulder. Maybe it was nothing. Louis' blue eyes were very intense, so sometimes it looked like he was gazing at something when he was really just staring into space. Harry had learned in class, when Louis would seemingly stare at one student for a while, but then pick another. Well, it was either that, or he was just being a dick....

"Well, I'd say Harry's doing a better job than you during your first time, Zayn," Louis said, finishing the final bite of his pizza. "Harry, how does it feel to lose your deep dish virginity?"

Harry's eyes widened, and he shot Louis a smitten look. There was a little bit of sauce above his lip that he didn't seem to notice, and Louis didn't want to tell him it was there because it looked adorable.

"Well, Louis, it all happened so fast. But it was quite a pleasurable experience. I'd definitely do it again," he replied, a sexy smile forming on his lips. He had no idea where this confidence was coming from, but decided not to question it. Who knows, maybe Louis' acting lessons were taking effect?

"Well, next time, you should protect yourself," Louis said, in a low tone. He got up and jogged to the counter, coming back with a pile of napkins. He tossed one at Harry. Zayn and Liam looked at each other, silently revelling in the flirting that was happening in front of them.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Louis, taking the napkin and folding it up. "Oh no, the grease got on me! What do I do?"

"Well, now you go to the STD testing center, and you wait. And you pray," Louis suggested, shrugging.

"I feel like I'm watching a play," Zayn whispered to Liam, chuckling.

"Perks of living with Louis," Liam replied, stroking Zayn's hair softly. "He's great entertainment. If only he could clean the flat from time to time..."

"No, but seriously," Louis continued, grabbing a napkin and hopping up towards Harry. "You have a little something..."

Without speaking, he took the napkin, gently wiping the pizza sauce off Harry's mouth. Harry stared up at him, eyes wide as if he had just been stunned with a taser. His legs felt weak and his mouth felt dry. Was he dying?

"There you go!" Louis said, after slowly wiping Harry's face. "Unfortunately, you still have to get tested. You don't know where that sauce has been...."

"Oh for the love of god, Louis!" Liam laughed, rolling his eyes. "I was going to have another slice, but now. Nope. You've spoiled my appetite with your semen analogy."

"Oh, bullocks! Go ahead and eat it," Louis replied, returning to his seat. He quickly peeked at Harry, who was rubbing his face, perhaps checking for more sauce.

"Nah. I'm saving it for tomorrow. Unless anyone else wants more?" Liam asked, grabbing the box with the remaining two slices. Everyone shook their heads, so Liam headed to the kitchen, where he began wrapping the slices. The rest of the guys cleared the table, bringing the dishes to the sink and tossing out food scraps into the bin.

Louis, not privy to cleaning, put his dish in the sink and waited there, pretending to check something on his phone. Soon afterwards, Harry headed over with his dish and began to rinse it in the sink.

"It was quite good!" Harry said to Louis, who was leaning against the counter next to him. "Until you equated the sauce to semen...."

"Hey, you were in on it, too!" Louis quipped, tapping Harry lightly on the bicep.

The way they were standing, their faces were only inches apart, and Harry felt his heart flutter thinking about what he might do if Zayn and Liam weren't in the room. And if he weren't so nervous and could read Louis better.

Everything had happened so fast... Just yesterday Louis had been upset with him for sleeping with Greg. JUST YESTERDAY... less than 24 hours ago... he HAD been sleeping with Greg! But now, none of that mattered. Louis was being kind to him and flirting with him and it felt natural and beautiful and right. Maybe, just like his burst of confidence earlier at the table, he just shouldn't question it.

But Harry was a worried, and of course his mind began to fill with the 'what ifs.' What if Louis was just leading him on? What if he was just like this with everyone? Or even more terrifying, what if Louis did actually like him and want to take things to the next level?

It was enough to make him turn pale and his fork into the sink in a clamor.

"True. I was on it too, Lou," Harry managed to say, quietly, the energy draining from his voice.

"You look pale. Are you alright?" Louis asked. He put a hand to Harry's head, feeling it with the front and back to check for a temperature. Harry's curls felt soft beneath his touch, and he resisted the urge to lean in and kiss him. It was getting harder and harder to hold back.

"I. Yeah, I am... I just," Harry stammered. He looked at his shoes, nervously playing with the buttons on his shirt.

"Hey," Louis cooed, rubbing Harry's arm. "It's been a long day. Don't worry. It's okay if you want to go home. Or you can rest here. Whatever's good."

Liam and Zayn had left the kitchen a while ago, and Louis looked around now, realizing it was just him and Harry together, leaning against the sink.

"I, yeah. I think I'll go home. But Louis..." Harry said, locking eyes with the older boy. "This might sound stupid, and you have every right to laugh in my face. But would you want to go on a date?"

Harry had never seen Louis' face in a neutral position before. He was always smiling or laughing or getting mad or emotional, especially on stage. But now, as he gripped the sink, his face was expressionless, eyes still and lips frozen.

Fuck.

"Mr. Styles," Louis said, coughing and quickly composing himself. "I think you have some audacity to ask your teacher out on a date. It's quite unprofessional."

Louis crossed his arms over his chest and jutted out a hip for dramatic effect, shaking his head and making a 'tsk' sound.

"Yeah... Stupid. Sorry," Harry said, quickly, as he bit his lip. He shut the sink off and turned to leave the kitchen, a defeated look in his eye and the pizza slice feeling like an anchor that just dropped on his stomach.

"Harold, wait!" Louis called, jogging after him. Realizing he couldn't catch up, he jumped forward, throwing his arms around Harry's neck and latching on.

"Holy fuck," Harry yelped as Louis catapulted himself onto his body.

"Sorry!" Louis said, jumping down. "I just didn't know how else to stop you. I was kidding!"

Harry raised an eyebrow, this time folding his own arms across his chest. He scowled at Louis, his green eyes narrowing until there was hardly any iris left.

"Oh come on, take a joke. That 'not dating a student' rule hardly applies. Half the school breaks it, especially in the upper level classes like mine," Louis explained. "I'd love to go. I really would."

Harry smiled, nodding and running a hand through his hair. "Well, thanks for nearly giving me a heart attack and causing me to vomit back up that pizza," he replied with a laugh. "But awesome. I'm really looking forward to it. Exchange numbers?"

Louis nodded and swapped phones with Harry, frowning a bit when he saw a text message from Greg on the screen. Maybe it wasn't the best idea after all.

"Oh, fuck," Harry said, peeking over Louis' shoulder. "I'm not going to answer that. I'm shutting that down."

"Well, you don't have to," Louis said, continuing to insert his number. He finished and tossed the phone to Harry. Harry gave his own phone back to him.

"No, I really do want to," Harry replied, blushing. "I found someone more special."

"Aww!" Louis squeaked, smiling up at Harry. "I hope you're referring to me and not the deep dish pizza though, because the way you shoveled that thing down, boy! It was like love at first sight...."

Harry giggled and shook his head, scooping Louis into a goodbye hug. Louis stood on his tippy toes, hugging Harry back and loosening up as he leaned against harrys warm, muscular body. Louis almost never let anyone treat him like this -- and he certainly never went on dates. But Harry was bringing out a whole different side of him, a side that simultaneously scared and excited him. A softer side, a sweeter side, a more vulnerable one.

"You are too much, Louis," Harry cooed, giving Louis a final squeeze. Then, he headed out the door, his long legs quickly leading him out to the hallway.

"Bye, Lou. I'll text you later with details. I can't wait!" Harry said, a goofy smile forming on his lips.

"Bye, Harold," Louis replied, waving his arm dramatically.

He shut the door, sliding down against and breathing heavily. Fuck, he thought. I think I'm falling for that fucker...


	20. The Date

Standing in front of the mirror, Louis smiled as he examined himself. Instead of his normal neon-colored apparel, he decided to go for something a bit more simple and elegant tonight: black skinny jeans and a denim button down shirt paired with low cut, black boots. His chestnut hair was perfectly quoffed and a gold necklace rested on his neck. Strong smelling cologne wafted from his chest and a condom sat waiting in his pocket. He was ready.

Louis preferred wearing flamboyant things, but tonight he was going on a date and he needed to look at least somewhat formal. If he was being honest, it was his first real date in a long time -- in fact, probably ever. Harry was taking him to a fancy restaurant, an upscale Italian joint located inside of a five-star hotel, and Louis would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous.

Maybe that's why Harry had picked it. To get inside his head, to take him outside of his element. Louis himself had offered some suggestions like a bar downtown, where they could sip on margaritas and get frisky, or the university's open mic night, which Louis frequented so he could share humorous anecdotes or just vent about life. But according to Harry, those places were too loud and too public. He wanted to go somewhere they could be alone together. And so the Italian restaurant it was.

Louis' phone buzzed and he bit his lip and looked in the mirror one more time before jogging to the door. He opened it to find Harry, wearing nearly the same exact outfit as him -- black skinny jeans, a denim button down (though a slightly darker shade), and dark brown Chelsea boots.

"Oh my god," Harry giggled, checking out Louis' outfit. "Great minds..."

"Think alike. Yeah, yeah, yeah," Louis replied, waving his hands in the air and rolling his eyes. "Seriously, Styles. I can't believe you stole my look tonight. I'll have to go change. I can't have use being seen like this."

"Okay, but be quick!" Harry called to Louis, who was now speedwalking back to his room.

Shaking his head, Louis peeled off the jeans and shirt and dug out a pair of khakis from the depths of his closet. He had only ever worn them once -- for an improv show, where he was playing one of the characters from The Office -- and never planned to let them touch his skin again. But time was of the essence, and khakis were appropriate for a five star restaurant, right?

As he grumbled over the khakis, which fit uncomfortably more snug than he remembered, Louis pulled on a polo. Neon pink of course. As long as it had a collar he could get away with it. He jogged into Zayn's room and retrieved a pair of brown loafers, planning to text them later that he was borrowing them, and then entered the corridor.

"I'm back!" Louis cried, jogging over to Harry, who was standing next to the door, nervously fumbling with the lanyard on his keys.

"Oh my god. Lou-ee," Harry cooed, eyeing the tight khaki pants. "I love this outfit. It's so much more your style. You look amazing."

Louis laughed and spun around like a ballerina, shaking his hips a little. Harry chewed on his bottom lip as he watched the beautiful boy, his blue eyes fluttering opened and closed as he pranced around gracefully before him.

"Alright, Mr. Professional Ballerina, let's go. Our reservations are in 20," Harry said, calling an Uber on his phone. Louis stuck his tongue out at Harry and did one more leap before following Harry out the door.

As the two boys made their way down the corridor, they walked in silence, trying to repress the memory of their run in last week, when Harry had been leaving Greg's. They agreed to put that chapter behind them, and Harry had officially shut things down, telling Greg: "Hey sorry, but for me it was kind of a one time thing. No hard feelings." Greg had responded with "OK" and that had been the end of it... hopefully.

When Harry and Louis exited the building, the Uber, a black Honda, began to pull up to the sidewalk. Harry thought back to the time he had to call an Uber for Camille, even though they lived a literal seven minute walk away. She had slept on his shoulder during the four minute ride, and though Harry felt almost nothing for her emotionally, he found her beautiful in her peaceful, sleepy state.

Camille was bad news though, clingy and party-obsessed. She was toxicity in a hot girl's body and Harry knew to stay away.

Louis, on the other hand, was mysterious. He was sassy, he was sexy. He danced like it was nobody's business and he was one of the bossiest teachers Harry had ever met. He was pushy, and he touched people too much without asking them. Very handsy. A risk taker, a sass master. He was like no one Harry had ever met before, and perhaps that's why he so badly wanted to figure him out, explore him.

"That's the Uber," Harry said, pointing to the Honda.

"No shit, Sherlock," Louis said, with a roll of the eyes. He followed Harry to the car, and was surprised to find that Harry was holding the door open, but not getting inside.

"Harry, what the fuck, get in," Louis whined, crossing his arms.

Harry smiled, his green eyes shining amidst the dimming sunlight. "Lou, I'm holding the door open for you, love," he said quietly.

Louis tried to hide the smile that was quickly forming on his lips. If he hadn't caught feels before, he was watching them now.

Louis nodded and got in the car, scooching over to the further seat so Harry could get in too. He wasn't used to men treating him like this. At Zete, he had a reputation for being promiscuous and experienced and not much else. Guys flocked to him at parties for a good time, and inundated his Tinder to get drinks at the bar. But at the end of the day, it was usually nothing more than vodka shots and meaningless sex.

And that's how Louis liked to keep things. Every now and then, guys would get attached to his sassy charm and his firey personality, but Louis would always wave them off.

'I don't do repeats,' he would say.

'But what about Liam?' they would ask.

And that was a question he would never answer.

Now, sitting next to Harry in the Uber, Louis started to wonder why he had never done this with Liam. Liam had wanted to go on a date so many times, but Louis always talked him out of it, saying it wouldn't be a good idea, or it wasn't the right time. On the one hand, he did truly want to go, but on the other, it made things seem too real -- too official.

So why was it okay for things to be official with Harry?

Louis ran a hand over his stubble, tracing the bits of coarse hair as he studied Harry's face, his perfect posture, his jittery legs. There was something about him that just pulled Louis in -- his innocence maybe, his vulnerability. Sometimes Louis wished he could be more vulnerable, but he usually washed that desire away with shots and cans of beer. Maybe he was trying to channel his vulnerability by connecting with Harry, or maybe he was just too invested in him to reject his invitation for dinner.

Whatever the reason, Louis had decided Harry was special. An exception to his rule of no dating. There was no denying the connection between them, and tonight Louis wanted to explore it more, even if it meant letting his walls down. Even if it meant getting hurt in the process.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, putting a hand on Louis' shoulder. He had been staring at the back of the drivers' seat as he was thinking, and laughed nervously, trying to cover up his spaciness.

"I'm delightful, how are you, flower face?" Louis replied, his voice cracking a bit. "Did you just call me 'love' back there?"

Harry blushed. "Fuck, yeah. Sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Louis moved closer to Harry, allowing their thighs to brush together lightly. "It's okay. I don't mind," he replied, reaching over and rubbing Harry's thigh.

Harry nodded, completely frozen in place by Louis' touch. Had the Uber not pulled up to the restaurant a few seconds later, he would not have known what to do.

Louis hopped out of the Uber, this time holding the door open dramatically for Harry. "Be careful, Harold, m'lady," he called, bowing slightly as he held the door open.

Harry rolled his eyes, hitting Louis' shoulder playfully on his way out of the car. Then, they walked towards the hotel, which had two revolving doors at the entrance.

"We should just stay here and run through these for hours until we throw up like they did in the movie Elf," Louis said, half-joking. His blue eyes look bright and his heart is beating a little too fast. Is he trying to impress Harry with his humor? Fuck.

"I guarantee I would be the first to puke, Louis," Harry said, laughing as he pushed through the door. He was just about to go inside when the door stuck, frozen in place. Panicking, he pushed against it. It didn't budge. He pushed harder and harder. Then he heard giggling. Louis was behind him, in the next revolving door compartment, restraining him from moving forward.

"Fuck off!" Harry whined through the glass.

"Suit yourself," Louis replied. He let go and Harry went flying, nearly tumbling head-first into the lobby.

Louis followed after him, laughing hysterically, but Harry shot him a warning look, widening his eyes and craning his neck to point towards the reception desk, where a woman was giving them a dirty look.

Dusting himself off, Harry got up and led Louis to the right wing of the lobby, where the restaurant entrance was. "Styles," he said politely to the hostess, who had also been watching the revolving door incident based on her playful smile.

"Louis, oh my god," Harry whispered to Louis as they followed the hostess to their table, a secluded booth in the back of the restaurant, adorned with candles and a vase with flowers.

"What, am I too much for you to handle?" Louis replied, batting his eyelashes dramatically.

Harry shook his head, curls bouncing, as he took a seat. "Never," he said sweetly.

"This place is so romantic, Styles," Louis said, raising an eyebrow. "I think we should get spaghetti so we can lady and tramp it."

Harry chuckled, looking up from his menu and locking eyes with Louis. His emerald gaze met Lou's icy stare and they both felt a small tingle run down their backs.

"Whatever you want," Harry said. His voice broke a bit towards the end and he reached for the water, nearly spilling in the process.

"But if I am being serious, I'm really nervous. For this date. I'm really excited to get to know you... like, really fucking excited," Harry continued, smiling up at Louis, whose nose was buried in the menu.

Louis lowered the menu, peaking his little head out and smiled back at Harry. "I'm excited to get to know you too, Mr. Styles," he replied. "I want to know your deepest darkest secrets. Tell me everything."

Harry half-smiled, stroking his chin as he nodded. He wasn't sure if Louis was being serious or not -- and he kinda liked it. 

 

Sorry if this feels rushed. It's because it is. RIP. I just want them to get together already!!!


	21. Wine and Dine

"Red wine please," Louis said to the waitress, tossing the drink menu aside.

"Well we have 13 different red wines," she replied with a forced smile.

"Whatever you like best, honey," Louis said with a flashy smile.

Harry kicked Louis under the table, and covered his mouth in an attempt to not to burst out in laughter. Sometimes he was too sassy for his own good, this guy.

"I'll have the same," Harry said, shyly, folding his menu neatly and handing it to the waitress, who looked a bit disgruntled after Louis' comment.

"Lou, you're a character," Harry giggled, gazing at the blue-eyed boy. His hair looked smooth and fancy in the quiff, and his pink polo fit tightly on his chest, squeezing his biceps a little at the sleeves.

"What kind? Comedic? Tragic? Romantic?" Louis asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's a new pop quiz idea for my class."

Harry shook his head, grinning and running his fingers through his hair. It was really getting too long to be manageable now. Normally, he would cut it because he felt like it was too feminine, and his mum would always make a comment about it. But he had always been curious about growing it out, and maybe now was a good time to try it. Like Louis said, he should allow himself to be himself. He was done with repressing his desires. At least for now.

"You're sort of like every character ever, rolled into one. Funny, loud, charming, angry, sassy," Harry responded finally. The waitress returned with two glasses of red wine and Louis grabbed for his immediately and took a swig.

"Good observation," Lou replied with a smoldering smile. "Louis Tomlinson does not fit into those mediocre character tropes I listed. And neither do you. But tell me more about yourself, Harry. I feel like I hardly know you."

Harry blushed, a rosy pink flush gracing his cheeks. He hated when people asked him to tell them about himself. There was really nothing to tell. He was a pretty simple guy.

"Well," Harry began, taking a sip of his own wine glass. "I study maths. Boring. I'm from Cheshire, studied in Newcastle for a bit before transferring. Also boring. Um... you see, this is why I always fail at those icebreaker games with the 'fun facts' and all..."

Louis shook his head and slid his arm across the table, grabbing Harry's wrist rather tightly. "Shhh," Louis interrupted. "I don't wanna know your resume, Styles. Tell me what you like to do. Like, for example, I like to dance, as you already know. And I like organizing events and teaching and when I'm not doing all that, I'm sitting on my arse drinking beer and watching 'Shameless.'"

Harry smiled and sort of stared down at Louis' hand, which was still gripping his wrist. Unsure what to do, he drank more wine and then stroke Louis' hand slightly with his free hand. That was romantic, right?

"I, um. Wow, okay. So yeah, I'm really into soccer. Or at least I was until my team started losing. I also love to write. I wrote for the newspaper at Newcastle and I'm gonna sign up here I think... Um, I do a bit of songwriting sometimes too, as embarrassing as that is to admit," Harry replied, looking up at Louis to see his response.

The waitress, however, swooped in before Louis could respond.

"Do you know what you'd like to eat?" she chirped.

Harry ripped his hand away from Louis, startled, without even thinking. Louis looked at him in awe, rubbing his wrist a little, and striking him with a pouty glare.

He had fucked up.

"Lemon chicken for me," Louis said quietly without looking at the waitress.

"Spaghetti and meatball," Harry told her. She nodded and walked away quickly.

"Fuck, Styles. Didn't know you were that embarrassed to be seen with me," Louis said, folding his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

"No, it's not... it's not that," Harry cried, apologetically. "I swear I just freaked and got nervous. I... I don't know what I'm doing."

"Well, it's fine. If anything it's my fault," Louis replied, rolling his eyes. "That's what I get for going on a date with someone who's fresh out of the closet... or maybe even still in it."

Harry stared at Louis, his stomach lurching as he took in what he had said. Yes, truthfully, he may have felt uncomfortable because the waitress had seen him with a guy -- the first guy he had ever taken out on a date. But that didn't detract from his feelings with Louis. He was just going through something personal. And Louis of all people should have been able to understand that.

"Honestly, Louis, that's a little harsh," Harry said. His throat was dry and his eyes burned, but he kept drinking his wine, hoping it would help lessen the blow.

Louis peered over at Harry, whose large hand was shaking as he downed the last of his wine. Maybe he had been a bit blunt. Poor kid looked white as a ghost.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Louis said, exhaling harshly through his nose. "It's your own journey, and I respect that. But I definitely will not keep myself hidden, if that's what you're thinking."

"No, no," Harry said, waving his hands. "No, I don't mind.... I like when you touch me. Or when I touch you. I... there's nothing to hide...."

There's nothing to hide, there's nothing to hide. Maybe if he said it enough times he would believe it.

"Good, okay. Sorry, Curly," Louis said, his face softening a bit. "I've just been treated poorly before and I'm a bit defensive. Anyways, let's move on now. So you're a writer and a mathematician. How does that work?"

Harry nodded, rubbing his eyes a bit as the wine began to kick in. Even just one glass was enough to make him feel sleepy.

"Well," he began. "It's kind of odd. Most maths students can't write. But I always had an interest in it. My minor is English. I guess I'm both left brain and right brain. I love numbers and solving the problems and getting that rush of satisfaction when I get the answer. But I also love writing. I love the way it makes me feel -- the way it makes other people feel. That whole universal."

Louis' face lit up, his blue eyes gleaming, and he nodded. "I feel quite the same way about theatre. It's like all these relatable experiences that you can share. The human experience really is something," he gushed. "As they say in math terms, it's nonlinear. It's messy. All over the place."

Harry smirked. "Math terms. Love it," he chuckled, winking at Louis.

"Did you just wink at me, now?" Louis squeaked, holding back laughter. "Oh dear lord, Harold, tell me you're not the kind of guy who's jerking off to parabolas and equations. Math lingo getting you hard."

Harry was beat red at this point, laughing so hard it hurt to breathe. "Fuck, no, Louis," he giggled. "Do you jerk off to people doing improv acting?"

"Sometimes," Louis retorted, waving his empty wine glass in the air at the waitress. She gave him a dirty look, but nodded and walked towards the kitchen.

Harry rolled his eyes, still giggling. Louis shrugged at him and shook his head and disapproval. "Don't mock me, young man," he said. "You don't know what you're missing out on."

The waitress returned a little while later with Louis' wine and a bowl of bread, which probably indicated the food was going to be a while.

Harry smiled and reached for a slice of bread, spreading butter onto it with his knife before taking a bite.

"Do you want some?" Harry asked, looking over at Louis who was checking something on his phone.

"No, I'm okay," Louis replied with a tight smile. Harry shrugged and continued eating. The bread was delicious, light and fluffy just like the kind he tried in Italy once--only not quite as good.

Louis eyed Harry as he ate the bread, trying to maintain a neutral expression, but failing. "You okay?" Harry asked between bites.

"Yeah," Louis replied, though truth be told he was feeling kind of anxious.

"So, Harry, what made you ask me here?" Louis asked, point blank. He was drinking his wine now, swirling it around in his mouth like a professional connoisseur. To Harry, he just looked adorable.

"I...well. I'm interested in getting to know you," Harry said, cringing at the generic nature of his response. "I mean. You're really cute and funny and understanding... I just. I felt a connection."

Louis smiled at Harry, amused. "What kind of connection?"

Harry blushed again. "I don't know," he said. "Why did you come on this date?"

Louis bobbed his head back and forth, simultaneously shrugging and shimmying. "Because you asked me too. And I find you cute and interesting," he said honestly. "Love those green eyes."

"I love your blue ones," Harry replied. The words came out almost involuntarily. He hardly had to think about it.

"Maybe There is a connection. A color connection," Louis giggled. "So we both like each other's eyes. What else do we have in common?"

Harry laughed, this time reaching across the table for Louis' arm.

"I'll do you one better, Curly," Louis quipped. He hopped up and got out of his seat, pushing Harry to the side. "Move over, I'm getting in."

Harry felt his breath hitch as Louis scooted into the tiny booth next to him, their legs brushing against each other a bit due to the lack of space.

"Well, we both like Italian," Harry said, half smiling. He wasn't sure if he should put his arm around Louis or something, so he just stayed seated, waiting to see what he did.

"We do," Louis said with a nod. He rubbed Harry's thigh slowly, just like he had in the taxi ride.

"Okay, rapid fire," Louis said excitedly. "Summer or winter?"

"Summer."

"Same. Comedy or Horror?"

"Comedy."

"Same again. Breakfast or dinner?"

"Dinner."

"Fuck, breakfast. Blue or purple?"

"Purple."

"Same!"

Louis was out of questions now and he looked at the ceiling, wrinkling his nose and trying to think of more.

"3/4 isn't bad," Harry said, smiling at Louis. He rubbed his shoulder lightly as he said it, giving it a small squeeze.

"No it's not," Louis said, taking another sip of his wine. He was feeling the effects now.

"Lou, do you want some bread?" Harry asked. "You look a little bit pale."

Louis shook his head again. "The food will be here soon, I'm good," he replied. "Besides. There's another dance coming up soon. Gotta watch my carb intake."

Harry smiled— perhaps a little too wide. "That was the first time I saw you," he admitted. "The night Camille introduced us right after your dance."

Louis nodded, giggling. He had somehow weaseled way into Harry's personal space and was resting his head on Harry's shoulder.

"The night Camille threw up, you mean," he corrected, giggling at the memory.

"Right," Harry replied, his heart rate quickening as he felt Louis' warm breath in his shoulder.

"She's such a nutcase," Louis sneered. "Crazy Camille."

He gripped Harry's bicep now, and was rubbing it in a circular motion.

"Yeah she is crazy," Harry panted. He felt feverish, wild almost. Was this really happening?

Harry looked down at Louis. His eyes were closed and he smiled to himself as he cuddled against Harry's long torso. He looked so precious, so peaceful.

"Lou, are you sleepy?" Harry asked. He wanted to touch his hair, but he didn't want to mess up the styling so he just sat there, staring at the older boy and admiring him.

Louis blinked a little and opened his eyes. "Yeah, wine makes me sleepy," he giggled. "But Im still a ball of energy."

He sat up, a little too quickly perhaps because he began to feel a bit dizzy after.

Grrrrrrrr.

Harry looked over at Lou, wide eyed, in response to his stomach growling. Lou pretended he didn't notice and sat back in the seat, rubbing Harry's arm once again.

"Louis, you're starving, just have the bread. The foods taking forever," Harry said, almost demandingly. He leaned forward, pulling out of Louis' grip, and then cut him a slice and began to butter it.

Louis, too sleepy to resist, nodded and took the bread reluctantly. He ate it slowly, savoring each bite.

"Louis, why do you not want bread? Are you on a diet or something? Like gluten free or something," Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. He remembered his sister going on a diet of the sort a while back. But he hardly understood how it worked, he only knew it left her grumpy and hungry, and that he would never engage in something so frivolous— not to mention torturous.

"No," louis said quietly, finishing the bread. "Just low carb, high protein. It's good for muscle mass. Though, truth be told, I drink most of my calories."

Harry laughed. "Perks of living in a frat," he said, rubbing Louis' shoulder again.

"Yeah," Louis replied, laughing softly. "Perks."

"Well, drinks or Not, you look gorgeous. You don't have to diet," Harry said, assuringly.

Louis looked up into Harry's eyes, immersing himself in the green sea before him.

"Well, harry, thank you, love, but not everyone has the genetics of a super model like you," he said snarkily.

"Louis, you are a super model. You Can runway walk better than any of them," Harry snapped, giggling slightly.

"True," Louis replied. Though as he cuddled against Harry, the guilt from eating the bread washing over him, he didn't feel so confident.


	22. Breaking Down

"Louis, slow it down," Harry called, panting as he tried to catch up with Lou. He was speed walking down the sidewalk, somehow outpacing harry despite his long legs.

Not too long ago they had finished their dinner at the restaurant. Harry's spaghetti and meatballs was delicious, and he nearly finished the whole thing, even though there was nearly a pound of pasta on the plate.

"Want some?" Harry asked, raising his fork towards Lou. "It's bloody delicious."

"No, I'm good. I trust you," Louis said with a small smile. "My chicken is really good."

Harry nodded and took a sip of water as the older boy cut his food into perfect squares of chicken. Harry thought it seemed a bit odd to do that, but Louis was a pretty extra person and he figured it was just part of his perfectionist attitude.

"So, what do you want for dessert?" Harry asked, pushing his plate away as he finished up.

Louis looked up at him, his eyes wide. "Jesus Harold, I'm not even done with my main course," he quipped. "Slow down will you!"

"Are you calling me fat?" Harry laughed, rolling his eyes. "I always eat a ton. I'm just always hungry. Bottomless pit."

Louis shook his head and stuck his tongue out with Harry. "Of course not. I'm just always so focused on talking that I never stop to eat my food. Now I have all this to finish," he complained.

Harry smiled at Lou, who was now rapidly stabbing the pieces of chicken. "Relax, babe," he cooed. "There's no rush. I was just kidding. I really do want dessert. But whenever you're ready."

Louis nodded and Harry loooked at him questioningly. He didn't think he had said anything out of line, but Louis looked super uncomfortable. Had he done something wrong?

"I'm joined you," Harry giggled, scooting into Lou's booth. "You look so cute when you eat."

Louis nearly jumped when he noticed Harry next to him. "Fuck!" He cried. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack Harold?"

Harry laughed shaking his head. "Sowwy," he replied, jutting out his bottom lip. Louis giggled and stroked Harry's thigh a little, shooting him a sexy smile.

"Suddenly I don't feel like eating, Haz," he said, his voice lowering. Harry looked at Louis, amused, and met his gaze.

Louis looked back at him, smirking in a pouty sort of why, a sinister smile on his lips. "Wanna get out of here?" He growled.

Harry nodded eagerly. "Yeah... but finish your food, though," He replied, observing Lou's mostly untouched plate.

Louis rolled his eyes, realizing he wasn't getting out of this. Why was Harry so observant? Liam and zayn were never like this.

Taking a deep breath, he finished the remains of the chicken, leaving behind all of the pasta it came with. "I'll get this to go," he said quickly.

Harry nodded, nestling his head onto Louis' chest. He felt his muscles tense a bit as he put his head there. It was as if he were making Louis nervous.... but that was impossible wasn't it?

As if on cue, the waitress came back, and harry asked for Lou's leftovers to go. "Can we also get two of those brownie sundaes to go?" He added. "They're so good."

Lou nodded. "I'm sure they are!" He replied.

After all was said and done at the restaurant — louis insisted on paying, telling Harry that even though he had asked him out, he had a social responsibility as the older one to do so — the boys exited the hotel and went outside.

The night was a little bit chilly and Harry leaned against the hotel fountain as he called an Uber, but Louis slipped his hand away.

"Wouldn't it be fun if we walked home," he suggested, his blue eyes dancing in the moon light.

Harry wrinkled his nose. "I'm so full though. And it's a 30 min walk," he whined.

"I know, but it's just so nice out. Plus to my place it's only 20," Louis lied. He knew full well it was at least 32 minutes away.

"Alright," Harry said with a shrug. "Just don't complain if I vomit on you, Tommo."

Louis swallowed. "Very funny," he replied. But his voice was shaky.

Now, a few minutes later, louis was a stride ahead of Harry, who was struggling to keep up with his date's speedy gate.

"Lou, slow down or I will actually vomit," Harry moaned. "What's the rush?"

Louis shrugged, not slowing his pace at all. "I guess you'll have to wait and see," he replied, shaking his hips a bit.

Harry bit his lip and without thinking, he grabbed Louis by the waist, twirling him around so they were facing each other.

"What if I don't want to wait," he breathed, his soft breath hitting Lou's face.

Louis felt his heart flutter as Harry held him. He had never been taken on a date and then kissed under the moonlight before. It seemed like something out the movies — or even out of one of his plays. But not real life. He was always sweaty and half naked when he kissed people. It was never emotional, sometimes not even consensual.

"Mmm," Louis replied. He stood on his tip toes and wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders. Without warning, Harry scooped him up, holding him beneath the knees and leaning forward to kiss him.

Their lips intertwined, Harry's tracing the inside of Lou's mouth gently. Lou pushed back, making the kiss deeper and Harry began to bite on his bottom lip. The whole experience was so exhilarating — so sensual, so sexy. Louis ran his hands through Harry's soft curls, and Harry traced Lou's jawline with his fingers. Everything about it felt so natural, choreographed almost. It was like they had practiced this before — though they had only barely just met, and there was no way of knowing that their chemistry would be this good.

"Fuck," Harry said, finally pulling away to take a breath. "You're so gorgeous."

Louis smiled and returned his feet to the ground, jumping out of Harry's grasp. "Touché, Curly," he replied, grabbing Harry's large hand. He traced his knuckles a bit with his index finger, sighing as he looked into Harry's green eyes. "Now let's go so we can finish this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|~|||

"Hey, Lou," Harry said softly. They were back at Louis' now and were in his bed, taking a break from making out. Lou and Harry were lying on top of the bed's neon green comforter, parallel to each other, both shirtless. Empty bottles littered the floor around them and posters of actors covered the neon pink walls. If harry expected anything from louis' room, it was this.

"Harry?" Louis asked, turning to face him.

"I like... sorry. I wanted to know what you thought of the date," Harry said, blushing a little. "I tried really hard to make it fun, but I don't know. I guess you don't like Italian food."

Louis felt his body stiffen and he rubbed Harry's shoulder, frowning as he looked up at him. Sometimes acting felt hard, even for him.

"I did, Harry, the food was great. The wine was amazing. Company was even better," he replied, kissing his neck.

Harry nodded, rubbing Lou's back lightly. "Yeah, but you seemed to really tense up when the food came. Sorry if i stopped making as much conversation.... did I say something wrong?" He asked.

Louis felt his stomach drop.

"Um, honestly, Harry I was just a bit worried about my diet," Louis admitted. "Sorry if I seemed distracted. I really did have a good time."

Harry frowned again, this time pulling lou further up onto his chest.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why what?" Louis replied, rubbing his neck.

"Why were you nervous about your diet? You had baked chicken," Harry replied, confused.

"I... I ate a lot earlier today, didn't want to go over calories," Louis explained. "It's not worth getting into, harry. We all have our quirks."

Harry shook his head. "Lou, that's not a quirk though... that's an insecurity. Are you insecure about your body? You shouldn't diet so extremely," Harry replied. "You nearly passed out in my lap from having the wine on an empty stomach."

Louis shrugged. He felt like a solider going to battle without armor. Harry had stripped it all away, and now he was naked, lying in the battlefield. Ready to be defeated.

"I'm not. Do you really think I am, harry? Would I dance half naked all the time if I was," he retorted, a little aggressively. His face was red now and he looked flustered. Harry had never seen Louis look so upset.

"No, I guess not. But there are bikini models who have bad body image too," Harry replied. "I mean, you don't have to tell me, but I just get the sense that something is wrong."

Louis stared at Harry. After all this time, no one had ever confronted him about this. Not even when he skipped dozens of meals in theatre camp, not even when he told Liam he was having vodka for dinner. It just never mattered — everyone saw him as normal.

"I... fuck, I don't want to get into it," Louis said, a tear forming in his eye. Harry noticed and pulled him into a hug, stroking his arm softly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry to upset you. I was out of line," he told him.

"No," Louis said, shaking his head. "No, you're right. I didn't want to eat.... because I had already eaten 1300 calories today and the wine put me at 1600 and I can't go over 1600.... I just can't or I'll gain weight. And I usually just eat one meal and then drink the rest of my calories. Wine alone is 150 per glass... I just didn't time it right today.... and I... fuck I know it's like weird and stupid to be on this diet but I've been doing this for the past two years and I just can't stop...."

Louis was sobbing now, his whole body shaking. Harry stared at him, completely flabbergasted. How could someone so perfect and so full of energy be suffering so much? He had never known, never realized that under the tough exterior, was a sensitive, struggling Lou. Someone not too different from himself.

"I just... I don't know I just feel like I need to stay at this weight. This is the weight I look good at. I feel good at... but now it's like I can't even go out to eat.::: I haven't been out to eat in over a month, honestly. I can't... I can't even control it... like that bread, I just wanted to vomit upon the first bite... because I know it'll make me fat with all those carbs...."

Harry nodded and continued to rub Louis' arms and back.

"It's okay, Lou. I'm so sorry I didn't know," he whispered. His face was wet with tears now too and he couldn't stop them from flowing. How could he when the perfect, beautiful boy in his arms was so broken?

"It's not okay, I'm a failure," Louis shouted, jumping up and walking to the other side of the room. "I'm supposed to be this big success but I'm not. I couldn't even go to the congratulatory dinners for half of my awards. I just, I suck, harry, I suck!"

He was sitting on the side of dresser now, staring down at the pile of bottles beneath him. "I'm a fucking alcoholic, I choose alcohol over food— look at all these bottles, fucking diet beer and gluten free wine, fuck, I'm pathetic," louis cried, basically shouting.

He jumped down and picked up some of the bottles, chucking them one by one across the room.

Harry jogged over to him, lowering his arm to his side. "Hey.... hey...." he said in a hushed tone. "It's okay. You're not pathetic at all, Louis. You're amazing. You're beautiful and hilarious and sassy and perfect. You truly are, even if tou can't see it."

Lou looked up at Harry, tears still dripping from his puffy red eyes, and smiled. "That's... thank you Harry. Truly thank you," he replied, nearly whispering.

"You're welcome," he replied. He stroked louis' hair softly and cuddled him closer. "Now let's go watch a movie or something. Put something comfortable on and just relax..."


	23. Vulnerable

"Fuck, I um. Sorry," Louis said shyly. He had just gone to the bathroom to wash his face after crying so much, and now he was back in his room, staring at Harry, who was sitting uncomfortably on the edge of his bed.

"What, no it's okay, Louis. Don't worry about it. I was crying with you just the other day," Harry said, reassuringly. "It's okay to get emotional. We all do."

"Oh god, you sound like bloody Mr. Rodgers. 'It's okay to feel sad sometimes,'" Louis replied, rolling his eyes and mocking the creepy tone of the Tv star. He walked to his dresser and pulled out a pair of flannel pajama pants, removing his khakis and putting them on delicately. Then he threw on a grey T-shirt that read 'I'm so fabulous.' It was adorable.

Harry felt his heart drop as he looked at Louis' toned, muscular legs and his perfect ass. If he didn't know better, he would never suspect he had trouble eating. He looked so gorgeous and healthy.

"Sorry," Harry replied, smiling and yanking Louis onto the bed. Louis allowed Harry to grab him and fell onto the bed next to him, curling himself into a ball.

"It's okay. I'm joking. I just feel weird — I, honestly, Ive never ever told anyone that before," Louis admitted. "I feel better and worse at the same time."

Lou and harry were lying on their backs now, looking at the ceiling, which Louis had decorated with little sparkly stars. They were the kind for kids parties glow in the dark.

"Sometimes it's cathartic though," Harry said, rubbing Lou's shoulder. "When I told you all that stuff about my sexuality, I had never spoken it aloud before. It felt liberating."

Louis nodded but didn't say anything. His stomach was stinging with guilt from the chicken, and he craved something to take the edge off but knew he couldn't drink more. It was a daily dilemma.

"Yeah, but i don't feel so much free as I do trapped," he admitted, grabbing hold of Harry's hand.

"Well, it's never too late to ask for help," Harry said softly. "You can break the cycle."

Louis pressed Harry's hand against his, squeezing it lightly.

"I'm just... I'm just scared," he admitted.

"I know, love," Harry said, kissing Lou's head. His hair was all messed up now, the quiff out of place now and falling into his eyes.

"But everything worthwhile involves taking a risk. That's how I got to go out with you," Harry continued, nudging Louis with his nose. Louis giggled and grabbed Harry's face, kissing him tenderly.

"I know," he laughed. "If I haven't ruined it already...."

"Nonsense!" Harry said, sitting up and waving his arms dramatically. "I had An amazing time. I still am."

Louis nodded, but he didn't feel so sure. He felt bloated and disgusting and like he was taking up too much space, physically and emotionally, ruining the mood with all his issues. Harry didn't really want to be talking about his disordered eating, did he?

"Me too. I'll stop freaking out, harry. I will. Just, thank you for being so understanding and supportive," he said with a smile. Harry smiled back, wondering how Louis went from being so sassy and confident to so crumpled and broken in just a matter of hours. A simple piece of chicken had the power to do that to him.... it was disturbing.

"You're welcome. And we can stop talking about it if you want. But if you don't mind me asking, how did this start?" Harry asked, genuinely.

Lou shrugged. "Two years ago. I don't know. I was never fat but I drank a lot that year. I gained a bit of weight and I went on this fad diet with Liam. The difference was he got off it, I never did. I... just... it turned into an obsession," he replied quietly. It sounded so dumb when he said it.

Harry nodded, his green eyes staring intently at the ceiling. "Ah, i see," he said. "That happens to a lot of people. It's called an eating disorder."

Louis shrugged. "I Guess. But I'm fine physically," he said motioning to his body. He was quite muscular and fit, but that didn't mean he wasn't hurting his health.

"Well, yeah. But not everyone who is sick looks physically ill," Harry replied. "I... I don't know, Lou. I really never ever think about eating. But I've learned about eating disorders and all in Pynch class. They're dangerous. But people can recover from them. It just takes some therapy and self care."

Louis stared at Harry like he had just murdered his mother in front of him. "I don't need therapy, Harry," he said, almost laughing. "I do tons of counseling for Zete and I refer tons of students to therapy, and trust me I'm not like them.... I'm normal...."

Harry nodded, sensing that Louis was upset with him, as he had let go of his hand. "I used to go, back in Newcastle. I had a tough time adapting to uni," he said, quietly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yeah," Louis said, a bit embarrassed by his response. "Well I didn't mean it like that.... normal people go too... I'm just. I'm not a basket case, Harry. My problem sounds a lot worse than it is.... I'm really... I'm okay."

Harry nodded, his curls falling onto the comforter. "I know what you mean, it's okay. Yeah... but i don't trust you Lou. You do so much for others in the community, for Zete, for the theatre. What about you?"

Louis swallowed. "I guess I should make more time for myself. Part of the reason this has been going on so long is because every time I go to focus on eating normally, something comes up in my life, another event or responsibility, and I just push it down. 'I'll deal with it later,'" he disclosed.

"Yeah, maybe take it a bit easier. It is your senior year," Harry suggested, pulling Louis into a hug. 

Louis nodded. "Yeah," he replied. "I suppose you're right. But what if I gain weight?"

Harry bit his lip, unsure what to say to that. He never really worried about gaining weight. He wasn't even sure how much he weighed himself. 170? 180? He didn't know...

"Well how much do you weigh?" He asked.

"155," Louis said, almost too quickly.

"Well, that's not much," Harry said, raising an eyebrow. "You are shorter than me, but still. You could stand to gain more... I don't know. Lou. You look great no matter what. Honestly. Gorgeous."

Louis arched his back, letting out a tiny yawn as he stretched.

"Thank you, Harry," he giggled. "But i dont like weighing too much more than this. I prefer to be a bit small."

"You'll always be small, Lou. I don't anticipate you growing to be my height anytime soon," Harry said with a laugh. He grabbed his tummy, pulling him into spoon position. "You'll always be little spoon."

"Haz, stop, Im bloated," Lou whined, pulling away. This was the very reason he had a strict 'no eating four hours before hooking up' rule.

"Louis, Tomlinson, your stomach is flat as a board right now, Mr," Harry retorted.

Louis shrugged and pulled his knees to his chest. "It's definitely not," he said. "I usually don't eat the whole day before a dance routine. You see me when I'm at my peak. It's deceitful."

Harry pulled Louis towards him, so they were looking into each other's eyes. "Louis, stop saying these things about yourself. You are so very in shape, even more so than me. And it's scaring me that you can't see it," he said, his voice cracking a bit.

Louis took a deep breath, sighing and shaking his head. "Harry, I just. I'm sorry if this isn't what you expected of me. I'm so different in public, but at home I'm a mess," he squeaked. He held back his tears, breathing shakily. He did not want to start crying again.

"We all are, babe," Harry said. "And i know it seems messy and unpleasant, but it's not. I really like you, Louis. All of you. I'm glad you're vulnerable with me. I'm vulnerable too. I struggle a lot with my sexuality and with my masculinity too — I don't know if I should cut my hair or not. My mum always made me so it just became a habit, but now I kind of want it long. Maybe I want to dress a bit more feminine? I don't know what I want and it scares me. We're all scared of something. But we're all beautiful and unique. And that's what makes us human."

Louis peered into Harry's blue eyes, nodding as he wrapped his hands around his neck. Harry gripped him into a hug and they just stayed there, taking in each other's presence, realizing that they were more similar than they could've ever imagined.


	24. Space

"Hey, mate!" Niall said, giving Harry a slap on the back as he entered the room. "Good night last night? You didn't come home!"

Harry grinned and laughed at Niall who was making an outrageously exaggerated wonky face.

"Yes. But Not in the way you think," he said, chuckling. He wagged a finger at Niall, who was still in his pajamas - a too tight white T-shirt and boxer shorts.

"Ah, well I'm glad it went well," Niall giggled. "Even if you didn't bang."

Harry shook his head, raising an eyebrow at Niall and lunging towards him, forcing him into a pretend headlock. Niall laughed and played along, pretending to tap out, and then pushed Harry off of him, sending him stumbling and crashing lightly into the dresser.

"Wanker!" Harry groaned, shooting Niall a dirty look.

"Sorry," Niall said sweetly, flashing him his famous Irish smile. "But seriously, I'm kidding. Tell me what it was like."

Niall followed Harry over to his bed and took a seat next to him. Sometimes Niall could be too eager... Harry felt like he had just come home to a golden retriever rather than a roommate.

"I, well, it was nice," Harry began, suddenly feeling overcome with emotion as he thought of Louis. He had experienced a whirlwind of feelings in the past 12 hours.

"We went for Italian food. He was super charming and funny, as always. Then We walked home and kissed on the sidewalk..." he continued.

"And..." Niall asked, his blue eyes lighting up in suspense.

"And then we went home and kissed some more. And we had this deep talk — I realized he's really sensitive, Niall," Harry said, his green eyes lighting up. "Under all that attitude and sass and confidence — you'd never believe it but he's insecure. About his body of all things."

Harry cringed at himself, instantly regretting sharing Louis' personal info with someone else, when it was clear it was to be kept between them. But he knew that Niall would never tell a soul.

"Really? But you said he dances shirtless and all," Niall questioned, wrinkling his brow.

"Yeah, but... he says he starves before every show. And he restricts his calories and uses most of his daily calories towards alcohol.... I think he's really sick, Niall," Harry said, his face falling. "I don't know what to do."

Harry put his hands over his face, trying to conceal his tears, and Niall put a hand on his back, rubbing it slowly.

"Hey, It's okay, Harry. It's not your fault he's struggling," Niall said softly.

"I know but I also want to help him and I can't," Harry replied, lifting up his face to reveal his now puffy green eyes.

"You can't fix him harry. You just have to convince him he's worthy of getting help," Niall said, his voice cracking a bit. He knew from years of experience that forcing recovery upon others was not the answer.

"But what if I can't," Harry quipped. "Niall, you had to see him sobbing onto my chest, he was so broken. He's falling apart, but he's so good at putting on a happy face that no one can see how much he's hurting."

Niall nodded. "I know mate," he replied. "My sister had bulimia. We didn't know until nearly a year in. We had no idea - she was so good at hiding it...."

Harry's eyes widened and he turned to face Niall. "Really? Oh my gosh, Niall. I'm so sorry," he told him. "Is she okay now?" He didn't even know that Niall had a sister, let alone that she had been ill.

Niall nodded, though his face was rigid and unsmiling. "Yeah, she is," he said. "She still struggles from time to time, but is a lot better. But she wouldn't go to treatment or therapy. And she was over 18 so we couldn't make her. She finally checked herself in last year."

"That makes sense," Harry replied, though his mind was elsewhere. He had never realized how common eating disorders were - how many people had one or were affected by one in their family. It was as if he was looking at the world through rose colored lenses, thinking everyone viewed the food the same way as he did - with love, as a simple form sustenance, as a leisure activity on a sunny day. He had no idea that there were so many people who were afraid to eat normally. It was mind blowing.

"Yeah, but louis is tough. Like my sister. Hell get through it," Niall assured him. "I think just be patient with him. You're just getting to know each other. So just continue to get to know him. I know you really fancy him and you want to intervene, but trust me, it'll just drive him further way. You don't want to scare him. Hell feel ambushed. He's probably scared enough from admitting his issues," Niall explained. He looked at his hands as he said it, his blue eyes wet with tears for the first time since harry had met the bloke.

"Ni, you're right. You're so right," Harry replied. He pulled Niall into a hug, stroking his back softly. Niall huffed Harry back and then pulled away, shooting harry a sad smile.

"It's even hard for me to talk about," Niall said. "I'm sorry he's going through that, mate. But I know everything will be okay. He's got you."

Harry smiled, nodding at Niall. But his stomach clenched and he began to wonder if he has what it took to help Louis. Or where to even begin.

~~~~~~~~~~}

"5, 6, 7, 8. Let's go ladies!"

Liam and Harry sat in the back row, watching as Louis led a group of girls in a dance routine. Today was the choreography unit in the theatre class, and Louis was currently shimmying, body rolling and twerking his way across the stage, a group of uncoordinated students sloppily attempting to imitate his flawless moves.

"Stop! Let's try it again. It's all hips. Don't just move your torso," Louis yelled, rolling his eyes. He started the number again, tugging a bit at his baby blue tank top before beginning. Harry tried not to watch him too intently for fear of getting too turned on.

"So how did it go? The date?" Liam asked, elbowing Harry.

"What? Huh?" Harry stammered, distracted by Louis, whose ass was the main attraction of the stage. "Oh, didn't Lou Tell you?"

"He didn't give us much details," Liam said, frowning. He was holding his math notebook, as he and Harry were doing problems between sets. Pretty soon, they would have to get on stage next with the boys group. While Liam couldn't wait, Harry was dreading it. He was so tall and lanky that he looked like a giraffe on stilts whenever he tried to dance.

"It was good. We got Italian, and we came back and talked and cuddled and kissed," Harry said, blushing.

Liam stared at him, jaw hanging open like a cartoon character.

"No sex?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Harry replied, giving him an odd look. "What's wrong with that?"

"Well, nothing," Liam replied. "But Lou always always always has sex on the first night.... that's just. Wow."

Harry grimaced, his green eyes falling.

"Ugh, so I was too gross?" He asked, biting his lip.

"No, you were too good!" Liam said, slapping him on the arm. "He never waits. And he talked and cuddled? Aw, Harry. He likes you."

"You think so?" Harry asked, his dimples re-emerging as he cracked a smile.

"For sure— fuck were up!" Liam shouted, pointing to the stage, which was now full of guys.

Harry groaned and made his way up to the stage, taking a spot in the way back. Liam stood in the front, behind Louis. Louis looked back at the class, his eyes browsing quickly over Harry.

"Ready. I'll show you the moves first," Louis said. He did a complicated set of shuffles, followed by a body roll with exaggerated arm movements.

"You try! 5, 6, 7, 8..."

Harry swallowed thickly and braced himseld for what would be the worst 20 minutes of his life.

~~~~~~

"Hey flower face," Louis said to Harry. Harry had waited until all the other students had piled out so they could be alone together.

"Hey, Lou," Harry said, smiling wide. He leaned towards him, unsure whether to hug or kiss him.

Louis eyed him, smirking as he struggled to decide which one, and then hopped onto his tiptoes and stole a kiss, planting a tender one on Harry's lips.

Harry, startled, grabbed Louis by the waist, and planted a kiss on his head.

"How's my pro dancer?" Harry asked, chuckling.

"How's my star student?" louis retorted, stacking his papers and putting them in his backpack.

"Star student? I'm bloody awful," Harry replied, giggling. "Did you not see me? I was a beat behind every time."

"Oh, I saw you, Styles. Why do you think we restarted 8 times," Louis said with a laugh. "Liam nearly killed you."

Harry blushed. "Not my fault. I'm lanky," he said, sticking his hands in the air defensively.

"I know, Love," Louis said sweetly. "I'll just have to find another spot for you. U can wear the tree costume."

Harry shook his head, sending his curls flying. "Absolutely not!" He replied. "That's discriminatory against tall people. I am not a bean pole."

Louis giggled. "Sorry, Love," he squeaked, tossing his backpack on his back. It was neon pink and studded with rhinestones.

"So wanna grab dinner later?" Harry asked, walking next to Lou as they made their way out of the autotorium. "Or... or no dinner. Sorry. We don't have to stuff with food."

Louis stopped walking and stared at Harry, his blue eyes cold and penetrating. "Harry," he said sternly. "Please don't bring that up. Don't act weird about the stuff I told you. Please. It's really upsetting."

"Im sorry," Harry said quickly. "You're right. It's wildly inappropriate."

Lou nodded, and kept walking but Harry just stood there. Still thinking.

"I'm just worried about you is all. I just... I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or upset. I just wanna know what you need from me," Harry said, his green eyes wide, hungry for answers.

"What I need, Harold, is for you to not bring it up all the time. Pretend it's not a thing," Louis said in a low, angry tone. "I'll tell you if something is making me uncomfortable."

"Okay. And you'll tell me how you're doing? Like if you're doing okay and all?" Harry asked eagerly.

Louis stared at his pastel blue vans and bit his lip. Was this what it was like to have someone care about you? He wasn't so sure he liked it... he felt sort of like he couldn't breathe. Like he was suffocating.

"Haz, I... I can't tell you everything. We just met. I need space," Louis said, locking eyes with Harry.

"Oh... um. Wow. Okay then," Harry said. He forced a smile and nodded, realizing he had done exactly what Niall had told him not to do.

"Let's get dinner. Not tonight, tomorrow. And we can go around six. That's usually when I eat," Louis said, rolling his eyes. Harry was an awful actor. It was so clear he was upset, and Lou just couldn't resist those big green eyes. So he gave in.

"Okay!" Harry said excitedly. He wrapped Louis in a hug, squeezing him tight. Louis wondered how he felt to Harry — if Harry found him fit or fluffy. He couldn't tell himself anymore.

"I'll see you then, babe," Harry said, jogging to the door so as not to miss his class.

"See you, flower face," Louis called. "And practice those shimmies, later! Your arms are stiff as hell."


	25. Sweetness

"Hey!" Harry said, speedwalking over to Louis eagerly as he spotted him in the cafe lobby. They were in a salad shop called Sweetgreen on the corner of 3rd and 10th. It was sort of like Chipotle, where you pick your toppings, except all of the toppings were super healthy.

"Never do that again," Louis says, shaking his head at the over-eager Harry. "I want to see that level of energy though, during your dances."

Harry blushed, pushing a loose curl back beneath his beanie. It was truly fall now- the weather was getting colder and Harry was decked out in a red plaid shirt, black skinny jeans and Chelsea boots. He looked divine.

Louis, on the other hand, was still soaking up the last bits of summer. He was wearing an hombre Tank top, which was black, grey and white from top to bottom. On his legs, he wore cropped denim shorts, paired with a pair of white Vans. How many pairs of vans did this kid own? Harry wondered.

Harry gave Louis a quick hug, and Then headed towards the line to get their food. "I can pay this time," Harry offered. Louis shrugged. "Okay," he said.

Louis stepped up to order first, getting a spinach salad with chicken, a wide variety of vegetables unidentifiable to Harry (were those bean sprouts?), and a tiny bit of olive oil dressing on the side.

Harry looked warily at his salad, but didn't say anything. Then, he walked to the counter and asked for one of the premade salad choices - the Asian fusion one, which came with loads of chicken, crunchy noodles, peppers and peanut sauce.

Harry looked up and noticed that this was the kind of place where they put calorie labels on everything. The number next to his salad read: 700. That seemed like a lot, but Harry ate meals bigger than this on a normal basis. They were young men with fast metabolisms. Why was Lou so worried?

Harry paid and then met Louis, who had taken a seat in the back part of the caf.

"Yours looks good!" Harry lied, smiling at Louis, who was slowly beginning to eat.

"So does yours," Louis replied between bites. "What is that?"

"Asian fusion," Harry replied, taking a bite. He fucking loved peanut sauce.

"So hows your day, flower face?" Lou asked. His blue eyes were gleaming, and his biceps were bulging at the seems of his rank top.

"Not great. We had a math exam," Harry groaned. "At least it's over though."

"Poor baby," Louis mocked, making a distressed face. "Perks of being a theatre major. No tests."

Harry chuckled. "That is true. Though every day feels like a test in your class. A guessing game of: How much embarrassment can Harry Styles handle before he dies of humiliation?"

"Oh knock it off," Louis grumbled, smirking at Harry. "It's not my fault you suck at dancing."

Harry laughed. "It's not my fault either. Im just a baby giraffe," he said, purposefully extending his neck.

"I'm going to choke from laughter, stop!" Louis demanded.

Harry was surprised to find that Louis was actually eating his food, really devouring it. But aside from the chicken, there wasn't really much substance to it. It hardly looked filling.

"Why are You staring at me?" Louis asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"What? I'm not," Harry said quickly. He took the final bite of his salad, tossing his fork into the empty container.

Louis raised an eyebrow. "Harry, I'm really fine," he said, reassuringly.

Harry had about a million things he wanted to say about his eating — but he held his tongue. Niall was right. louis was getting hostile already and he hadn't even said anything yet.

"I know, love," Harry replied. "Where do you wanna go next? Do you want tea or coffee or something?"

Louis shrugged. "We could get a drink," he suggested.

Harry giggled, shaking his head. "Lou, it's 6pm on a Tuesday," he informed him.

"I know," Louis retorted. "All the more reason to go!"

Harry could see Louis' tactic quite clearly now. He are very little to make room for the alcoholic calories. It was quite clever.

"Not in the mood to drink. We should go Friday though. Niall's girlfriend Melissa is having something at her sorority house," Harry suggested. "It's actually a date party, kinda. Thought we could go together."

Louis smiled at Harry, whose dimples were clear and visible as he beamed at him. Louis hated date parties — so much so that he banned them at Zete as one of his first acts as President. But with harry, he'd do anything.

"Sure," he replied, finishing up his food. "I guess we can get coffee then, at the bookstore."

"Awesome," Harry says. He grabs the trash and tosses it into the garbage. Then he grabs Louis' hand, and they walk out the door and down the street together, feeling simultaneously invincible and terrified.

*****************

"Mmm," Harry mumbles. "Some homework session."

After coffee, Lou and Harry had gone back to Harry's dorm to 'study.' Harry was babbling nervously the whole time, telling Lou how messy his room was and how he shouldn't judge.

"You've seen all my bottles and trash, honey," Louis replied, waving him off. "It's fine. Why are you so nervous, Styles? Trying to impress me?"

"Yes," Harry giggled, kissing Lou's neck lightly. "Always."

"Well, you're doing a fine job," Louis laughed. "Though not in the dance department...""

"Oh bloody hell with the dance," Harry cried, as he unlocked the door.

Louis walked into the empty room and instinctively walked to Harry's side of the room, which was made apparent by the giant british flag draped on his dresser.

"Aw! This is cozy," Louis said, kicking his shoes off and climbing into Harry's half made bed. It smelled just like him. Like flowers and peppermint.

Harry giggled and plopped down on the bed beside Lou, his heart racing faster than it should have been.

Lou turned towards Harry, cuddling up to him. Harrycwrapped an arm around his waist, stroking his side slowly.

"What are you thinking, Mr. big blue eyes?" Harry asked softly. Louis was staring at him, a smile plastered on his lips.

"Nothing," Louis said, looking aside. "I just really like spending time with you."

"Me too," Harry said. His breath was warm against Lou's face. Louis wanted to kiss him but didn't. Instead he hugged Harry tighter. He felt warm and safe. Cared for.

"You're so cute when you cuddle," Harry admitted, his face flushing red.

"You're always cute, Harold," Louis replied, he nuzzled into the crook of Harry's neck, sighing as Harry stroked his back with his large hands.

"Am I?" Harry asked, his voice was raspy and thick. Heavy.

"Mm- hmm," Louis breathed.

Harry nodded, planting a kiss on Louis' head. He never held something so precious, so sassy so moody, so valuable.

Lou crawled onto Harry's chest now, kissing him chastely on the lips. He grabbed Harry's jaw, ready for things to get rough, but was surprised to find Harry kissing back gently, stroking his back slowly. It felt surreal.

He had never kissed anyone slowly before. Only hard and fast, as if to get it over worth. Louis felt overcome with emotion and arched his back, slowly gyrating his hips on top of Harry's.

"Like this," Louis managed to say between kisses.

"Like you," Harry replied, running his hands through Louis' Harry.

Louis' hand snakes towards the zipper of Harry's jeans, fumbling to get them off. But suddenly, the door swung open and Lou and Harry looked up to find Melissa and Niall in the doorway.

"Fuck, sorry mate! I should have told you I was using the room," Harry said, his face reddening. Louis hadn't moved from his chest, and he held him there still, rubbing his back gently.

Niall laughed. "It's okay. Sorry to interrupt. Well head out," he chuckled, leading Melissa to the hallway.

"It's really fine. We weren't about to fuck or anything. We were just gonna do some hand stuff," Louis chirped. "You can stay. We're finished up."

Harry's face turned white, and Niall returned to the doorway, his shoulders heaving as he burst out laughing.

"At least you're being honest," He chuckled. "I like this one, Harry. He's a keeper."

"Thanks, Ni," Harry replied. "Sorry again."

"No worries, mate," Niall replied. He winked at Harry and then jogged back out the door to a giggling Melissa, who had apparently also overheard the Louis conversation.

Harry smiled at the ball of feelings and sass and angst next to him. Never in a million years did he think he would end up with someone like him. But here he was. And he was so fucking happy.


	26. Walls

"Louis?!" Liam called, jumping up to the sound of the soft pitter pattering of his footsteps.

"Li, Hey," Louis said, wrapping his housemate into a friendly hug.

"I feel like I never see u anymore," Liam said, patting his back softly and pulling away.

"Well, I'm a busy man with places to go and people to see," Louis replied, shooting him a toothy grin.

"You look chipper. Were you hanging with Harry?" Liam asked, excitedly.

"I never kiss and tell," Lou replied, giggling.

"Oh my god. How was it?" Liam exclaimed, wagging an eyebrow.

"Good! We got dinner and then coffee and then went back to his place," Lou gushed. His blue eyes were gleaming and his cheeks were pink with blush. "We got cockblocked by Niall though. So we just cuddled after that. Speaking of Niall, we're doing a double date thing for Melissa's sorority party. Me and Harry. Niall and Melissa. Are you and zayn in?"

"Sure. Sounds fun. What's the theme?" Liam answered. "And wow, cockblockage. That sucks. But sounds like a cute date!"

"It was," Louis replied, wiggling his hips a bit. "And awesome! Glad to have you there. It's a couples costume party. Of all fucking things."

"Fuck," Liam laughed. "Zayn, honey! Can we be Cosmo and Wanda? I call Cosmo!"

"What?" zayn shouted from the kitchen.

"He heard me. That counts as dibs right?" Liam chuckled.

Louis rolled his eyes, grabbing a bottle of wine from the cabinet. His calorie count had been perfect. 250 for the salad, and 0 for the black coffee. He was on track to indulge in a night of booze.

"Drinking on a Tuesday?" Liam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm just putting this in my room. I have to give it to a professor," Louis said quickly. It was a lie. But he didn't have time to fight with Liam about this right now. He was craving a drink, and just wanted to be alone.

"Alright. Well. We might watch Shameless later if you wanna join," Liam offered, still a bit wary of Louis' explanation. He noticed Lou had been drinking significantly more lately and he didn't know why.

"Sounds good," Louis said with a nod. Then he scurried off to his room, not even bothering to grab a glass. He just drank directly from the bottle.

~~~~~~<<~~~~~

Louis' Point of View:

Uh. How much did i drink? I wonder to myself. My vision is blurry and my limbs feel heavy and uncoordinated. I'm definitely drunk.

I grab for the bottle, and realize it's empty. Great. Placing it back down on the floor, I reach for my laptop. I usually just watch Tv or YouTube when I'm drunk, giggling at the videos until I fall asleep. Or if I'm horny, I'll go on tinder and bring a guy over. But right now, im in the mood to do neither of those things.

Well that's a lie. I do want a guy. But not Just Any Guy. I want harry. Maybe I should call him.... he likes me right? He calls me love and babe. We're a thing right? Kind of. He paid for my food. I don't know.

I think about calling him. But I don't really know what to say. I'm swimming in random thoughts right now. I'm not really sure how I feel — whether im nervous or relaxed. Maybe I should drink more. But my stomach is full and bloated with the wine and I don't want to ingest anymore.

I should have gone with vodka — you can get drunk off of way less liquid. Why am I so stupid?

Ugh. I feel gross now. Just sitting here with all that wine inside me. Maybe I should be working it off. 1600 is enough for maintenance, but I have that costume party, so maybe I should lose a few pounds. I want to look sexy for harry. Like a sexy shirtless lion or something. I don't know. He's so hot. I wish I could compare.

I mean I know I'm attractive. I look good with my blue eyes and nice hair — but my body. Ugh. My body is the worst. It's so hard to make it perfect. I have to work so hard to make it perfect, while people like Harry can just eat tons of junk and stay thin as a pole.

It's not fair.

Sometimes I wonder what I'm even doing. I do all this stuff — I teach, I act, I'm the president of the frat. Blah blah blah. But what do I really want? What really makes me happy? I don't even know....

Harry.

Harry makes me happy. He makes me smile and he makes my heart race in ways that no other guy has even come close to doing before. It's just different with him- it's just electrifying. And he's so naive and adorable. It's just. It warms my heart. It sucks that I'm not good enough for him.

I can't believe I told him. I can't believe I told him I starve and binge on alcohol and all that shit. He knows now. He knows and he thinks I'm so weird. He stared at me today in the restaurant. Watching me eat. I felt so gross- I knew I ordered too much.

Ugh. Harry. Harry, harry, harry. I want to call him. I'll call him. I just have to act sober.

"Hello?" Harry answers in two rings, his voice breathy and low.

"Hi— hiccup!" Fuck. I blew my cover in two seconds. Great.

"Lou, are you drunk?" Harry asks, coyly. He sounds nice but he's definitely judging me. It's only 9pm. Ugh.

"'No," I say, laughing a bit. "Just wanted to call you. See how you're doing."

"Oh," Harry said, his voice brightening. "That's sweet. I'm okay. Just studying for the maths exam Friday. How are you, babe?"

"I'm good. I'm really good," I reply, lazily. "I just. I think of you a lot. I don't know why. But it makes me smile."

"Aww!" Harry gushes. "I think of you too. You're so cute."

Oh my god. He does?

"Yeah, But... I just wonder if, you know, if I'm good enough for you," I continue. My is voice up and down now, speech slurring slightly.

"Lou? You sound a bit tipsy. But you're definitely good enough, cutie," Harry assured him. "Am I good enough for you? I often wonder that."

"Mhm. So good for me. You're so sweet and handsome," I say, lying down onto my pillow. I feel so sleepy now. His voice is so soothing.

"As are you!" Harry giggles.

"Thanks," I squeak. "You're so nice to me. Why are you so nice to me?"

"Because I like you," Harry replies. "You're special to me."

"Aww. You're special to me too," I say. I'm almost tearing up now. He's so cute.

"But. Harry. I know you think I'm weird for the way I eat... I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm weird, it's embarrassing," I add, remembering the staring incident. Maybe he didn't like me so much.

"What? No. I don't think you're weird. Everyone has their problems," Harry says. His voice is deep, penetrating. I think I might love him.

"Yeah. I knowwww," I wine. "I just. I don't want you to treat me different. Like I'm broken. Because I saw you stare. And you freaked over dinner, wondering if I could eat. And I can eat, Harry. I certainly can. I just don't want to."

"Oh no. Why's that?" Harry asks, concerned. "And no, I don't think of you differently. I'm sorry, Lou. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's okay," I say. I'm crying now, sniffling softly into my pillow. "I don't want to because I don't want to get fat. I want to stay shredded. I can't drink a lot and eat a lot. I have to pick one."

"Oh no. Well, you can eat and drink in moderation, Lou," Harry suggests. "And babe, you'd never get fat. It's not in your genes."

Moderation. No. No moderation. I've tried that. I always go out of control. I have to restrict.

"No. I can get fat and gross. You haven't seen me gross. It's awful. I have photos. I'll show you one day," I tell him, hugging my pillow.

"Lou, you're always beautiful to me. At any weight. I'm sure you looked gorgeous. You're always so gorgeous, Lou. So so gorgeous," he tells me.

"Harreehhhhhhh," I squeal. I'm sobbing now. I'm making little choking noises, and I can't stop. I feel so stupid. Like a baby or something. Ugh.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" Harry asks, frantically.

"No... it's just. That's so nice. You're so nice," I say between sobs. "You're perfect."

"Nobody's perfect. Only my Lou Bear," Harry replies. "Are you feeling okay, honey? Want me to come over and cuddle?"

I sniffle. YES.

"I do. But you have to study!" I say, remembering that thing called academics.

"I know, but you seem upset. I'll head over in an hour, after I finish this chapter. Sound good?" he asks.

"Mmm-Hmm," I reply, laying back down in my bed. "Bye Harry."

"Bye Lou," he says. My heart beats extra fast. Because He's mine.


	27. 27. Cuddly

"Coming," Zayn says, opening the door. He's a bit surprised to find Harry standing there at 10pm holding a bag of pretzels.

"Harry! What's up?" he says, excitedly, gripping him into a hug.

"Nothing. Good to see you," Harry says. "I came to see Louis."

"Are you to an item now?" zayn asks, raising an eyebrow. "No one tells me anything around here."

Harry blushes. "Eh. Sort of," he says, rubbing the back of his neck with his wrist. "We haven't really established it. We went on two dates so far."

"Ay, well he seems to really fancy you," Zayn says with a smile. "I told you it would all work out. Are you feeling better about coming out?"

Harry froze, his green eyes widening. "What? Oh um. I mean I haven't formally come out... to my family and all. But here in Uni, I guess the word is out that I'm bi," he said with a nervous laugh.

"Sorry, lad. I didn't mean it like that. You tell whoever you want," Zayn replied. "But you're feeling better in general, about all that?"

"Yeah, for sure. A lot better. Freer even. I'm gonna let my hair grow out," Harry said with a toothy grin. It was such a simple thing, but it made him so exited. He could just be himself.

"That's awesome. I'm sure it'll look great," Zayn told him with a smile. "Sorry If Im holding you up to go see Lou."

"No problem at all," Harry replied. "It's good to catch up. How are things with you and Li?"

"Oh... Um," Zayn began, blushing. "They're good. He's just been a little distant lately. Not sure why."

Harry shrugged. "Hmm. Well we have a maths exam Friday. Could be that. Studying gets stressful," he suggested.

"Maybe," Zayn said with a nod. But he wasn't too sure.

"Well, I heard you two are coming to the date party," Harry continued. "Melissa's so excited to have such a big crowd."

"Yeah! We still have to decide on a costume," Zayn chuckled. "I vetoed most of Liam's ideas."

"Ah! So do me and Lou," Harry remembered. "Well, I'll see you later, Z. I'm gonna go check in on princess."

"Sounds good, harry. Good chat," Zayn replied. He watched as Harry made his way to Louis' room, and then turned around and headed back to His own room.

"Hey, Lou!" Harry said, jogging into Lou's room. The door was open, and he saw Louis, curled in a blanket, watching YouTube videos.

"Harry!" Louis cried out when he saw the tall, chestnut headed creature in front of him. He reached out his harms and Harry lifted him up, scooping him into arms and allowing him to wrap his legs around him.

"Missed you," Lou mumbled into Harry's shoulder.

"I missed you too, love," Harry replied, Plopping down on the bed. Lou remained in his arms, taking in every inch of Harry's hard torso and every breath of his floral cologne.

Based on his slurring speech and uncoordinated movements, It was very apparent to Harry that Lou was intoxicated. Gone was the witty sass master he had gotten dinner with. In his place, was a sensitive, cuddly ball of mush. And Harry liked him just the same — if not more than the sober lou.

"What are you watching cutie?" Harry asked, pointing to the screen.

"Nothing, nothing," Lou stammered, closing the laptop.

"Porn?" Harry giggled, his dimples forming.

"Nooo," Lou laughed. "No it was just videos of bloggers. Like this couple that has a cat and a house. I know it's silly. But they look so happy. I just wanna be like them."

Harry smiled, his heart filling with joy as he began to realize how simple this complex, sassy boy before him really was. He just wanted someone to love him, to be with him. To have a happily ever after with.

"Are you happy, Lou?" Harry asked. louis' blue eyes blinked open and closed a few times before he answered.

"Drunk Lou is happy. Sober lou is sad," he admitted.

"How come?" Harry questioned.

"Cause, I feel worry free when I'm drunk. When I'm sober I have all these issues. All those responsibilities," Lou explained. He's crawling onto Harry's chest now, making his way to his designated spot on his left pec.

"Mm. Well, sober lou has a lot on his plate. But I want him happy too. We should try to make him happy, yeah?" Harry said, pushing a stray strand of hair out of Louis' eyes.

Lou blinks and grabs Harry's hand away. "Hands are for holding, silly," he giggled.

"They are," Harry replied, planting a kiss on Louis' hand. "So why were you sad earlier?"

"Mm," Lou said, rubbing his eyes. "Too much to drink."

"Do you feel sick?" Harry asked, worriedly.

Lou shook his head, his bangs falling into his eyes a little. "Fat," he replied.

"What?" Harry stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Fat. Too much wine, it makes me bloated," Lou said, rolling his eyes.

Harry bit his lip, unsure what to say.

"Well, you know you're not fat?" he finally asked, a few seconds later.

"Mhm," Lou said with a nod.

"Good," Harry replied. "You okay?"

Lou nodded and wrapped himself around Harry's arm, kissing it gently.

"Yeah when you're here," He giggled.

"Aw, Lou," Harry blushed. He stroked Louis' back lovingly.

He was about to hug him, but suddenly,  
Lou's stomach growled so loudly it nearly sent Harry jumping out bed, hitting his head on the ceiling due to his giraffe height.

"Lou," Harry said, tapping him gently. "Are you hungry love?"

Lou shook his head. "No, just drunk," He moaned.

It happened again, this time louder, and Harry sat up, examining Lou's sullen facial expression.

"Well, I'm hungry and I brought these delicious gluten free pretzels. Whole grain and low calorie," Harry said, as if he were advertising for the company.

He opened the bag he had brought with him, and began to eat one. Based on their phone conversation, He anticipated that Lou would be hungry and would need to eat a little to avoid a hangover for work the next day, but he knew he would refuse most foods. So he picked something semi healthy.

"Want one?" Harry asked, offering the bag to Louis.

Louis stared at the bag, his face blank, and then slowly took a pretzel and put it to his lips.

"Mm, they are good. I like salty," Louis said, breaking a smile.

"Me too!" Harry exclaimed. He watched excitedly as Louis continued to eat the pretzels out of the bag, albeit, slowly, and one by one. But he was still eating, and that was something.

They sat there, eating the pretzels in silence. Just reveling in each other's company, each other's presence.

When Louis was done eating, he handed the bag back to Harry and snuggled onto his shoulder.

"Thank you," he whispered, kissing his cheek.

"For what?" Harry asked.

"For showing me it's okay. That I'm gonna be okay," Louis replied.

Harry has never smiled wider.


	28. The Date Party

"Hey, babe. Are you ready?" Harry called. He stood in the mirror adjusting his fake mustache. He And lou were going to the party as Mario and Luigi. Well- slutty Mario and Luigi.

Lou had made the costumes, of course, which involved cutoff denim shorts, red and green vests, and bedazzled hats. The only thing that was really accurate to the characters was the fake mustaches.

"Gimme a second!" Lou cried. He sprinkled some glitter on his chest, just because, and then jogged out into the common room of the Zete apartment, his jaw dropping when he saw Harry.

"Oh my god. You look....AMAZING!" Lou exclaimed, giving Harry the up and down. Harry usually wore simple outfits, jeans and a T-shirt, with the occasional neon floral shirt here and there. But nothing this revealing. He looked gorgeous.

Harry's torso, long and lean, was completely exposed by the green vest, which hung open on his cheSt. His long legs looked gorgeous and the cutoffs squeezed his ass just ever so slightly. It was a sight to be sign.

But harry wasn't having it.

"I look so awful," he pouted, his face turning the color of a raddish. Louis shook his head and grabbed Harry by the hips, standing on his tiptoes so they were face to face.

"You look gorgeous, Haz," he said, smiling. "Those legs. That chest." He gripped Harry's shoulders tightly, biting his lips a little.

Harry blushed and managed a half smile. "You look pretty great yourself, love," he said, peering at Lou, who as always looked muscular and perfect in his flamboyant attire. His red vest was completely open, as if to offer a show, and his cutoffs were even shorter than Harry's, barely containing his firm ass.

"Thanks!" Lou giggled, twirling around. "There will be no princess peach for me tonight!"

Harry laughed and planted a kiss on Louis' forehead. It was only the fourth or fifth time they were hanging out, but Harry was Past the point of feeling nervous around Lou. He knew Lou liked him, and it just felt natural to kiss him and hold his hand. It was second nature.

"Liam! Zayn! Get in here," Louis called, rolling his eyes. "If I'm ready before them, that means it's bad"

Louis grabbed Harry's hand and began to run to Zayn's bedroom, where the couple was prepping their costume.

Liam was sitting on the bed, in full costume, but Zayn was nowhere to be found.

"He won't get out the closet," Liam grumbled, folding his arms across his Cosmo costume. Black skinny jeans hugged his legs and a white button down and skinny tie cloaked his torso. Coupled with a green wig and tiny paper wings, it was the perfect getup for Cosmo.

"I hate this bloody costume!" Zayn shouted from the closet.

Louis shot Liam a dirty look, placing his hands on his hips, and Liam looked at the floor guiltily, like a dog who had just gotten caught by his owner after tearing up the sofa.

"I told you not to put him in a costume he didn't like!" Lou shouted to Liam. Harry stood in the doorway, watching silently, unsure what to make of the spectacle.

"Sorry. I mean it was just so cute though—" Liam began but Louis wasn't listening.

He made his way quickly to the closet, opening the door to find Zayn in a pink wig and yellow crop top, looking absolutely crushed.

"Oh my god. Poor Zayn. Honey take that off," Louis told him, sympathetically.

Without hesitation, Zayn removed the wig and shirt, revealing his chiseled abs - the same ones Harry had seen that first night in Zete.

"Liam. Get over here," Louis snapped, waving him over. 

"What? Why?" Liam whined, folding his arms across his chest.

"You're gonna switch with him," Louis said, shortly. The vein in his neck was bulging and Harry wasn't sure if he was more scared or turned on by this aggressive Lou.

"No," Liam retorted, shaking his head. Zayn stood in the closet, shirtless, glaring at Liam. 

Louis grabbed the wig and shirt from Zayn and tossed it to Liam. "You're wearing it. You chose this costume, then you wear it," Louis said, sternly. "Or don't come."

Liam stared at Louis, his brown eyes manic with rage. Then he looked over at Zayn, who was pouting in the closet, and at Harry who was watching curiously. 

"Fine," he finally said, removing his shirt, tie and wig. He tossed it to Zayn, reluctantly, and began to redress, this time becoming Wanda.

"Was that so hard?" Louis asked, shaking his head in disgust. 

Liam didn't answer. 

"Thanks, Li," Zayn said quietly, adjusting the tie on his new costume. 

"Don't thank him! He should be apologizing," Louis said, throwing his hands in the air. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry for forcing you," Liam said in a low tone. His voice was quiet, nearly a whisper. 

"It's okay," Zayn replied, avoiding eye contact. 

Louis walked back over to Harry, stroking his arm softly. "Sorry, to keep you waiting, Harry," he cooed. "The things I do for you two boys." 

Zayn and Liam both looked at each other, blushing, and then followed Harry and Louis into the lobby.

"Ugh, it's already 10," Louis moaned. "They said be there at 9 for the good booze." 

As Louis said that, Harry's face lit up and he jogged to the door, grabbing a bottle from behind the couch. 

"I figured we'd be late. That's why I brought you this," Harry said with a flashy smile, handing Lou a bottle of Fireball. 

"Harold!" Lou said, the corners of his mouth lifting into a sincere smile. "Fireball's my favorite. That's so sweet."

"Someone's gonna get an A," Liam joked, elbowing Harry in the side. 

Harry giggled, but Lou shoved Liam aside, playfully pushing him away. "Oh knock it off," he mumbled. Then he kissed Harry coyly on the lips and began to usher everyone out the door and downstairs. 

The Uber ride to the party was short. Only about ten minutes, but it was a bit uncomfortable given the size of the car, a tiny Toyota Corrolla. Liam opted to sit in the front, which left Harry, Lou and Zayn in the back. Lou was in the middle, between the other two, but it was still a tight fit, and by the end of the ride, Lou was basically sitting in Harry's lap -- perhaps to make more room for Zayn, or perhaps just because he wanted to cuddle. 

"I'll text Niall we're here!" Harry said excitedly when they arrived at the sorority house. There was a visible line outside which could take at least an hour, but Niall said he could let them all in through the back exit when he called. 

"Psssh. Please. Zete has had lines triple the size of this," Louis said dramatically, raising his bottle of Fireball in the air. They had all taken a swig in the Uber, though Lou's swig was more of a gulp that lasted several seconds and seemed to go down like water. Harry was shocked when he didn't cough after finishing the drink.

"Yeah, we really do!" Zayn agreed, weaving through the crowd and following Harry and Lou to the back door. Liam trailed behind, his mind seeming to be elsewhere. 

As they rounded the corner, Harry nearly jumped backwards in fear as he saw a man who appeared to be Greg standing against the side of the house, swirling a cigarette in his mouth. But as the porch line shone on his face, he realized it wasn't him, and his heart rate began to slow back down, his fight or flight response distinguishing as quickly as it came. 

"You okay, Harry?" Louis asked, stroking his hand. 

"Yeah! Just got startled by the light," Harry said softly, quickening his pace. 

Niall was at the back entrance now, waving the four lads in. They smiled and waved, quickly slipping inside with out a sound so as not to draw attention to what they were doing. They didn't need other random party goers trying to sneak in the back. 

Niall and Melissa opted for Sandy and Danny from Grease, simple but classic. Niall's dark hair was all slicked back and he wore sunglasses, and a tight black T-shirt with black skinny jeans. 

"Ni! Love the costume," Harry said, slapping him on the back enthusiastically as they got inside. 

"Thanks, mate!" Niall replied, leading the lads to the kitchen. "You've got to see Melissa. She looks stunning." 

Harry nodded, turning behind to grab Lou's hand. But Lou was drinking from the Fireball bottle, completely entranced. 

"Lou," Harry whispered, as they entered the kitchen. "You okay?"

Lou stopped drinking and looked up at Harry, a bit ashamed. "Yeah," he replied. "Yeah, I'm good. I'm good." 

"Liss, baby, come here. Meet the guys!" Niall said excitedly, sliding an arm around the beautiful brunette, stationed in the center of the kitchen. "Well, you've met them before, briefly. But meet them again." 

Melissa smiled, twirling her hair, which was styled in soft curls. Like Niall, she also wore all black, black shiny leggings and a low-cut black blouse that showed off her tiny frame. 

"Nice to see you! Harry, Zayn. And Liam and Louis right? The Zete boys are all here," she said excitedly, offering each boy a friendly hug. 

"You look so gorgeous, darling!" Louis cooed, kissing her on the cheek. 

"Thank you," she laughed. 

"Sorry about what happened last time you saw us," Harry said, blushing and looking down at his converse. 

"Oh, no worries," Melissa replied, taking a sip from her solo cup. "IT could have easily been you walking in on Ni and I. We need a schedule."

"That we do!" Niall chimed in. "Let me get drinks! What do you lads want?"

"Tequila!" Harry shouted, chasing after him. Niall shot Harry a look of horror, perhaps reliving their hangover massacre from a few weeks prior. 

"I'm kidding!" Harry laughed, rubbing his fake mustache. "Let's do whiskey." 

"Okay. Anyone else for a whiskey shot?!" Niall said, grabbing the bottle and waving towards Liam, Zayn and Louis, who were still talking to Melissa. 

"Count me in!" Louis yelled, jogging over. 

Harry walked behind Louis, leaning down and whispering softly into his hear. "Babe, you already had several shots," he said, worriedly. 

Louis turned to face Harry, his blue eyes cold and penetrating. "Harry, do not monitor me. I'm 22. I know how to take care of myself," Louis snapped. 

Harry nodded, backing away slowly and grabbing his shot from Niall. Once everyone had a plastic shot glass in hand, they did a cheers 'to Melissa's amazing party!' and downed the shot. 

Instead of returning to Lou, Harry stood and chatted with Niall, catching up on how his past week had been -- as the two had been constantly missing each other. But even as he spoke with his roommate, Louis' words kept repeating in his ear. 

It made sense. He shouldn't have been monitoring him so much. He was allowed to make his own decisions and drink as much or as little as he wanted to. But the way he had said it -- it was just so hurtful, so harsh and angry. It was like it wasn't even Louis talking. 

Halfway through Harry and Niall's conversation, though, Harry felt tiny hands tapping him from behind. 

"Oh, one sec, Ni, I'll be right back," Harry said, hurriedly. He allowed Louis to grab him by the wrist, pulling him into a more isolated part of the kitchen.

"Hey," Louis said. He wasn't drunk yet, but he looked a bit tipsy. 

"Hey," Harry replied, cocking his head to the side and shooting Louis a tiny smile. 

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Louis continued, twirling the Fireball bottle in his fingers. "I just drink a lot... I always have. I felt embarrassed and judged when you commented on it. I know you were just looking out for me."

Harry nodded, running a hand through his curls. "Thanks, love," he replied, grabbing Louis by the waist. "It's okay."

"Okay, good," Louis said with a nod. "Because I can hold my liquor well. I really can. I'm not a fresher." 

Harry giggled, but he hardly registered what Louis was saying. He was just so beautiful, so sexy in his costume, with his muscular legs and his toned chest. Harry could feel his breathing quickening, his heart thumping faster. Somehow, lord knows how, this gorgeous man was all his. And that was absolutely incredible.

Louis noticed Harry's green eyes dilating, his voice lowering to nearly a whisper. And it became clear what he wanted. He wanted it too. 

Stepping onto his tip toes, Louis grabbed Harry by the small of his back and kissed him, his tongue weaving in and out of his mouth slowly. Harry pulled him closer, gripping his ass with one hand, and chewing on his bottom lip. 

"Fuck, Haz," Louis breathed. "We just got here!" 

Harry chuckled, his voice thick and syrupy. 

"What can I say? You're irresistible," he replied.

Louis licked his lips, shimmying closer to Harry and going in for another kiss. But before he could, something bright and flashy caught his eye. It was coming towards him, and getting brighter with each passing second. 

Oh my god. 

It was Camille.


	29. Irresistible

"Oh, hello, Harry. Louis," Camille squeaked. Her eyes were a little too wide and her mouth was a little too taught for her smile to be genuine. Harry sensed trouble.

"I see you have time to come to this party, but not the one I invited you to, Harry," Camille continued, still maintaining the forced smile.

"Sorry. I, I forgot," Harry mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"I texted you three times," Camille said, crossing her arms across her chest. The smile was dissipating now, instead being replaced by a furious frown. They didnt call her crazy Camille....

"He was busy, Camille. Give it a rest, honey," Louis said, putting an arm around Harry.

Camille stared at Louis in disbelief, then back at Harry, then back at Louis.

"Are... are you two...?" she stammered.

"Yes," Louis replied shortly. He turned to Harry who was white faced, and trembling, but trying to pull it off by pretending to scroll through his phone.

Louis shot Harry a look and he nodded towards Camille, his head bobbing in an exaggerated way. "Y-yeah, we're dating. Aha," Harry forced a laugh and wrapped an arm around Lou's waist.

Lou melted into his embrace and moved closer, planting tender a kiss on Harry's lips. Harry barely responded, and then pulled Louis back for a do-over. They giggled a bit, forgetting Camille was there, staring daggers into their backs.

"Well, isn't that adorable," Camille squeaks, though her maniacal smile tells them she feels the opposite. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you two. I'm actually here with a date as well."

"Well thank you! That's so sweet. And thanks for introducing us, honey," Louis cooed, replicating her sickenly sweet tone.

"Yeah, thanks," Harry added, his voice low and quiet. "Who's your date?"

"Oh. It's Alex. Alex?!!" Camille yelled towards the sea of bodies on the outskirts of the kitchen. A few seconds later, she emerged with a girl - a brunette with bright blue eyes and a pixie cut. They were dressed as the two dancing girl emojis, in a black leotard and heels with a black headband. 

Harry remembered Camille saying she was bi, but he didnt fully believe her. He just thought she was one of those basic white college girls in their experimental phase. Guess not.

"Wow, love the costume!" Louis said. "I'm Louis. President of Zete. Nice to meet you." He extended a hand to Alex, who shook it timidly.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Alex," she said. Camille watched intently as the two interacted. It was as if she were conducting a science experiment.

"This is my boyfriend, Harry," Louis said, smiling widely and pulling Harry by the wrist to face Alex.

"Hi, nice to meet you," Harry said shyly. He shook her hand quickly, avoiding Camille's penetrating gaze.

"Well, we're off for more drinks!" Louis said waving his arms in the air flamboyantly. "Toodles!"

"Toodles!" Camille called after them. Though by the look on her face, it seemed like she wanted to use a different word to say goodbye with.

"Fuck," Louis said, pouring another a round of shots. "She's crazy."

Harry nodded, laughing nervously. "Yeah that was weird," he agreed. Almost instinctively, they each grabbed a shot glass and clunked them together, throwing their heads back and downing the bitter fireball. The aftertaste was spicy.

Louis didn't hesitate to pour another round.

"Louis?" Harry asked. He was standing behind lou now, his hands around his waist, grabbing at the fabric on his vest. Louis began to worry if he was getting bloated from the alcohol... he didn't want Harry to think he was gross.

"Ask me love," Louis said, shaking off his fear and looking up at him.

Green met blue and harry nodded, slowly bringing his mouth to Louis' ear.

"Did you... did you say boyfriend back there?" he whispered, his voice cracking a bit.

"I did," Louis replied. He grabbed Harry by the jaw and turned his face so he was looking at him. "Unless you don't want to be..."

"I do! I want to," Harry said, nodding excitedly. "I was wondering what we were.... to be honest." He laughed nervously, pulling Louis into a hug and planting a kiss on his head.

"We're dating, Love," Louis said. He stood on his tip toes and leaned towards Harry's neck, sucking lightly on the skin. It didn't leave a mark, but it did cause Harry to shudder.

"I'm not gonna be able to resist you tonight," Harry growled, pulling Lou closer.

"Me either," he replied. He pulled Harry's face towards him, kissing him passionately. Harry tripped backwards a bit, nearly crashing into the table that held their shots and whiskey bottle.

"Fuck, not here, not here," Harry laughed. "I'm so clumsy. I have enough trouble looking up in just a bed."

"Oh don't worry," Louis said. He pulled away and grabbed the second round of shots — though it was really his 6th shot of the night and Harry's 4th.

"We'll do it however you like it Harry, however you my boyfriend likes it is how well do it," Lou purred. He put the shot glass to his lips and sipped it like a drink, allowing the whiskey to burn his mouth and trickle down his throat. He liked the pain.

Harry smiled, his dimples blossoming from his cheeks. "I love the sound of that, Lou," he replied. Then he grabbed his shot and forced it down, wiping his mouth before grabbing Lou's hand and leading him to the dance floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Harold! I did not know... didn't know you were such a great dancer. You gotta do thiss. In my class, babe," Louis slurred, watching as Harry shook his ass in a circular motion. It looked like a cross between the chicken dance and a failed twerk, but Louis loved it just the same.

"Ahhhh," Harry sighed, taking a break and walking to the side of the dance floor. "No. Babe. I can't in class. Embarrassing."

"You're never embarrassing. You're perfectttt," Louis assured him, grabbing his cheeks and giving them a squeeze.

The room was spinning, for both of them, and they were alone. In fact, they had lost track of Liam and zayn and Niall and Melissa a long time ago. But it didn't matter. They were enjoying themselves, and time wasn't a concern.

"Babe, you're so nice to me. Did you know you're my boyfriend?" Harry asked, giggling. He was leaning on the wall, half slumped over, and Louis was pressed against his chest, staring into his eyes.

"Yes I do you Buffoon! I was the one who asked you," Louis bellowed, cackling. He was laughing so hard he couldn't catch his breath.

"Like every time.. every time I see you, I get butterflies. Everything we do together, I just have the best time ever. Like ever," Harry babbled. He slid down the wall and was sitting on the floor now. Louis was staring down at him, bewildered at how he got down there. It took him a minute to realize he could sit down too.

"Me too," Louis agreed, taking another sip of his whiskey bottle. Between he and Harry, they had nearly finished it.

"Like... everything... I love it all. And you're so accepting. Even though I'm so weird and... you know, messy," Louis said. He pulled his knees to his chest and closed his eyes, leaning into Harry. Harry wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his arms.

"You're not messy, Lou-ee," Harry said softly. "And even if you were... like if you were... I would still like you. I like you so much, Lou. Since I ever laid eyes on you.... I just knew. I knew, he's the one. He's the one I want to be with."

"Aww! Really?" Louis squeaked. His blue eyes were watering slightly. He blamed the alcohol, but deep down he knew it was his emotions.

"Really," Harry answered.

"I... thank you. Thanks. Because most people just think, ok he's hot. But just good for a night. Or even if they don't and they want to be with me, I wonder: why? How? And I say no.... I just. I could never get close to anyone," Lou stammered. "Not until I met you. Why?"

Harry blinked, struggling to take in what Louis had said. He traced Louis jaw with his finger slowly dragging it from one side to another. His stubble prickled against his finger.

"Why?" Harry repeated. "Well, it's cause. I want you to feel safe... and like comfy with me. Like, I try to make you feel like you can tell me anything... like anything you want. I think that's why at least."

Louis nodded eagerly, stroking Harry's hand in slow circles. "That's why!" He chirped. "That's exactly why."

"Yeah, cause I want you for you. And you're hot too but... it's the Louis in here," Harry cooed, placing a finger on Louis' chest. "It's that Lou that I want."

"I just want your dick, TBH," Louis replied, his face emotionless.

Harry stared at him in horror, but then Louis burst out laughing. "I hate you!" Harry yelled between laughs. He began to tickle Lou, who screamed and tried to run away.

"Ahhh, stoppie stoppie!" louis demanded. "I do not consent."

Harry rolled his eyes and kept tickling him, watching his body squirm around as he hit the right spots. Finally, Lou dug his nail into his wrist and he stopped, pulling away in pain.

"Fuck!" Harry cried. "Too feisty."

"Or not fiesty enough," Louis retorted, sitting back up. He was still shaken from the tickling, breathing heavily as he nestled his head in Harry's lap.

"Lou... do you want to—" Harry began, his lips forming a seductively pouty smile.  
But just then he was interrupted by Niall, who ran up to them with a look of fear in his eyes.

"Harry, Lou. Sorry to interrupt. But Liam and zayn are like... fighting. Like physically fighting!" Niall told them.

Truth be told they were probably too drunk to help break up the fight. But their brains didn't know that. So they got up and followed Niall to the kitchen. When they saw what was going on, their jaws dropped...


	30. Trouble

"What the Fuck are They fighting about?" Louis screamed, sobering up to the sight of Liam kicking Zayn in the shin.

"Dunno. Zayn said Li was checking out other guys. Then they got in an argument and they both just snapped," Niall said, shrugging. "Can you help me break it up?"

Louis nodded and took a wobbly step forward, but Harry grabbed his shoulder and stopped him. 

"Babe, no! I'll go," he said, stepping in front of him. "You're too pretty to get hurt."

Louis rolled his eyes, but allowed Harry to break up the fight instead. He was feeling dizzy anyways, and he was shorter than both Zayn and Liam.

"Be careful, Curly," he called. Harry nodded, curls bouncing, and then locked eyes with Niall. Niall motioned for Harry to grab Zayn, while he would grab Liam. Harry was taller, but Niall was stronger. So it was best if he took on Liam.

Nodding to each other, they swarmed in towards Zayn and Liam. Harry swiftly grabbed Zayn and pulled him back towards the opposite side of the kitchen. Though he was resisting and flailing, harry was able to remove him quite easily.

"get your fucking hands off of me!" zayn yelled.

"I will in a second, just a second," Harry said. He waited until Liam was out of sight, and then released Zayn, patting his back in a desperate attempt to calm him down.

Niall, on the other hand, struggled with Liam, who was bigger and more aggressive. When Liam realized Niall was grabbing him, he turned around pushed Niall to the ground, sending the crowd of bystanders into a panic.

Louis, who was observing it all, ran over to Niall. "Are you okay, lad?" He asked, giving him a hand.

"Fine," Niall replied, standing up and dusting off his jeans. Louis nodded and turned his attention towards Liam, who was in the corner of the room, his fists clenched And his eyes manic with rage.

"What the Fuck Liam?" Louis demanded, stepping towards him. "Why'd you fight Zayn? And push Niall?"

Liam stared at Louis, wiping blood from a cut beneath his eye, probably from the fight.

"Im sick of everyone telling me what to do," Liam responded, coldly. "You especially."

Louis raised An eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Lou, I would really just end the conversation here. He seems manic. He may have taken something," Niall said, taking a step between the two men. "Let's all calm down."

"Yeah, louis. Calm down. Can you do that?" Liam taunted. "And to think I ever wanted to be with you."

"What?" Louis asked, his voice rising an octave.

"Remember when you cheated on me?" Liam continued, his hands shaking. "That was great."

"Louis, I would back the fuck up," Niall said in a low tone. But Louis wasn't one to back down so easily, especially when he was drunk. He glared at Liam, folding his arms across his chest and scowling.

"You'll do the same to harry," Liam said. "You can't ever commit. You're just a washed up, wannabe actor with an alcohol problem. Throw out those bottles, will you?"

"Louis— you're better than that. Don't—" Niall began. But it was too late.

Louis was charging at Liam now. In one quick motion, he threw his arm back and punching him square in the nuts.

Liam fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

"Fuck you!" he growled. He tried to get up, but Niall held him down, and some other guys came over to help make sure he stayed on the floor.

Harry, who had finally settled things with Zayn, emerged from the back room and entered the kitchen.

"Oh shit!" He cried, upon finding Niall holding Liam down on the ground. "What did he do?"

"Long story," Niall grunted. "Help me get him outside, yeah?"

Harry nodded, and grabbed one of Liam's arms, helping him up. Liam was glaring at everyone now.

"Fuck all of you!" He shouted. "Treating me like a fucking animal. When all I did was tell the truth, about that skank Louis Tomlinson."

Harry immediately turned red, and tightened his grip on Liam's arm.

"Harry, just save it til we're outside," Niall whispered. Harry nodded, though the rage inside him was boiling.

Niall and Harry led Liam to the back exit, walking him out the door and down the steps. When they were far away enough from the house, they released him.

"You don't ever talk about Louis like that, you hear me?" Harry said, nearly snarling.

"Okay, Luigi, whatever you say," Liam replied, in a mocking tone.

"Liam, you really have to go. You hurt people tonight. It's probably best you leave," Niall said sternly. He looked over at Harry and grabbed his arm to steady him, worried that he might attack Liam at any given moment.

"Fine," Liam said. "That's fine."

"Okay. Good," Niall replied.

"Louis is the best thing that's ever happened to me," Harry blurted out. "Your worthless opinion doesn't matter. Because he's amazing. And I'm lucky to have him."

"Until he cheats on you," Liam replied. He rolled his eyes, his sneakers crunching on the gravel as he walked back and forth on the back driveway.

"That won't happen," Harry said. Niall nodded encouragingly and then grabbed Harry's arm, quickly leading him back inside the party before things got physical.

But Harry could still hear Liam calling Louis a whore through the closed door, and it made him want to go back outside and beat him to a pulp.

"Sorry about that, Haz," Niall said. "He was so out of line. Not sure what happened with him. But that was so rude. Don't believe a word of it."

"I don't," Harry answered, nodding. Though he felt so angry he thought he might hurt someone.

"If it makes you feel any better, Louis punched him in the nuts," Niall said with a small smile.

"Did he now?" Harry asked, his face lighting up.

"I did! I punched him!" Louis said, running over to Harry excitedly. He was like a small child who had just won a baseball game.

"That's great! He was so rude," Harry said, pulling Louis into a big hug. Both boys were still super drunk, but the fight had caused them to become more attentive, and they were beginning to feel a bit more sober.

"I wonder though, if Liam's... if he's right," Louis said softly. "If I'm not good enough. I can never commit."

"But you committed to me. We're boyfriends!" Harry retorted, kissing Louis' cheek.

Louis nodded, but tears were streaming down his face and he was shaking. "It's okay," Harry cooed. But then he started crying too.

"Lads, cheer up!" Niall said, joining the hug. "It's alright."

They stood there in the kitchen, comforting each other silently. Louis started to wonder if this is what It felt like to be in a relationship. To be supported and cared for even if you made mistakes. It was so touching.

"I'm so fucking sorry. Seriously. So so so sorry, Niall!"

Zayn's voice echoed through the kitchen and the three boys pulled apart and spun around to find Zayn, standing next to them, red faced and frowning.

"Hey. It's alright. I mean. I'm just glad no one got hurt," Niall replied. "What specifically happened?"

Zayn shrugged, rubbing at bruise on his arm. "I don't know. I don't think Liam and i are good for each other. We've broken up."

"I'm sorry lad. Maybe things will cool down in the morning," Harry said, encouragingly.

"I don't think so," Louis responded. "I want him out of the apartment. First thing tomorrow."

No one said anything to that. They all sort of nodded in agreement and then looked at Zayn, who was shrugging and readjusting his costume.

"Well, we Can figure this out tomorrow. So long as you're okay, what do you say we finish this party?" Niall said, grabbing a few beer cans.

The boys nodded in agreement. "We could all use a drink," Harry said.

They each grabbed a Bud Light, thrusting the cans into the air. Though they didn't really know what they were celebrating.


	31. Finally

"Haz," Louis breathed. He tugged at Harry's vest, pulling it off and tossing it to the floor.

"Fuck, Lou," Harry growled. He leaned forward and removed Louis' vest too, staring at his toned body in disbelief. "You're gorgeous."

They were in Harry's room, as Niall was spending the night with Melissa, and Louis had no desire to go back home knowing Liam might be there.

They were both drunk, and had barely made their way down the hall without stumbling. And Harry had nearly walked into the wrong dorm.

"Ah," Harry moaned as Lou traced his neck with deep, purple love bites.

Louis smiled at Harry, his blue eyes bright as sapphire. "You Like it?" he questioned, moving his hands to Harry's cutoffs and tugging them off.

"Yeah... Ugh. We finally get to do this. Fuck," Harry said, his voice thick and sultry.

"We do," Louis replied, yanking off Harry's boxers to reveal his long, hard shaft.

Louis went to blow him, but Harry scooped Louis up and flipped him over, placing him on his back.

"No, Louis. I'm gonna do you the favor," Harry said. He tugged off Lou's shorts, to reveal neon pink briefs with rhinestones on them.

"Why are you laughing?" Louis whined.

"Nothing," Harry replied between giggles. "You're just so adorable."

When Harry finally caught his breath, he removed the final piece of clothing separating him from Lou's body. Then he began to kiss Lou, starting with his collar bone and working his way down his chest, following the little trail of hairs below his belly button.

When he reached Louis' dick, he sort of stared at it for a second, thinking. He had never blew anyone before in his life. But if there was someone he wanted to do it for, it was Louis.

Harry shrugged and put his lips around Louis' dick, sucking in and out. He was surprised by how deep he was able to get, and startled when he eventually began to gag, which forced him to take a short break.

In response to Harry's blowing, Lou was letting out soft little moans, his eyes closed and his nose wrinkled.

"You like it?" Harry asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah... yeah. You're really good, Haz," he replied. "You're so gentle, but you go so deep. It's hard to do."

Harry smiled to himself before continuing, pleased that he was actually doing it right - that Louis was actually enjoying it. He began to suck harder and faster, swirling his tongue around a little at the tip.

"Babe," Louis moaned. He reached down and pulled Harry's hair a little. "Fuck!"

Harry kept going, but Louis eventually motioned for him to get off. "Come here, honey," he cooed. "Top or bottom?"

"Oh um. Whatever you usually do," Harry said, blushing a little. The only other time he had sex — with Greg a few weeks ago— he had been bottom. But with Louis, he was open for anything.

Louis shrugged. "I'm a Jack of all trades. I do both," he admitted.

"But what do you like?" Harry asked, his green eyes large and dilated. "What would make you happy?"

Louis grabbed Harry by the waist, pulling him onto his chest and kissing him passionately. Harry kissed back, gyrating his hips on top of louis', creating a friction that sent both of them moaning.

"I want..." Louis began. "I want you to top, babe."

Harry nodded, his stomach filling with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. The thought of being inside lou made him hot and heavy with desire, and he nodded eagerly.

"You should know... I haven't done this before, though," Harry told him. "Maybe just tell me what to do, yeah?"

Lou nodded, excited for the challenge. "Sure love," he replied. He got onto his hands and knees, staring back at Harry with a sexy smile.

"Ok, just start with a finger," he instructed.

Harry nodded, slowly sliding a finger inside Lou's asshole. He wasn't sure how far to go, but when he noticed lou groaning in pleasure he figured he had hit a good spot, and began to weave it in and out, picking up speed.

"Another," Lou cried. Harry nodded, and stuck in another finger, repeating the motion. It felt smooth inside, like the inside of your mouth, only a bit more closed off.

Harry continued the motion until Lou started tugging at his wrist. "Ok, ok," he said. "I'm ready."

Harry's eyes widened and he nodded, readying himself for penetration. He was fully hard, so that wasn't a problem, but he was sort of confused about the positioning, and the timing and all that.

"Haz, it's the same as fucking a girl," Louis said, when he noticed Harry stalling. "Just put your dick in and thrust. Fuck. I need this."

Harry nodded, adjusting himself so his waist was parallel with Lou's bum. then he slowly slid his dick inside, a feeling which was indescribable. It was better than any sex had ever had with a woman. Lou's ass felt so tight around his dick, like it was made to fit around it.

It was great to start, but as Harry began thrusting, it got even better. He started off slow, but quickly picked up pace, slamming his hips against Lou's ass, which made a loud slapping sound. Instinct was taking over now, and it felt natural, second nature. Harry grunted and gripped Lou by the hips.

"You like this? Is it good, babe?" He asked between clenched teeth.

"It's so good," Lou replied, barely audible. He was moaning now, loudly, calling out Harry's name.

"Good," Harry replied. He continued the motion hard and fast, leaning over Lou's shoulder and looking at his rock hard dick.

Without thinking, Harry reached over and stroked it gently with his hand. Lou made a choking sound, and Harry pulled away, but Lou put his hand back.

Harry, still thrusting, Gave Lou's dick a slight squeeze and then returned his hands to his hips, gyrating wildly.

"Oh my god, I think I'm coming," Harry yelled suddenly. His dick felt heavy with fluid and he let out a small moan before pulling out and coming into the bed sheets.

"Fuck, Harry," Louis said. He was gripping his own dick now, slowly jerking it off to the sight of Harry's Orgasm. It wasn't too long after that he was coming too, staining the sheets with the sticky white liquid.

Lou collapsed on top of Harry's chest, nestling into the crook of his neck.

"That was amazing," he cooed.

"You were amazing," Harry replied, stroking his back. "Perfect."

And they fell asleep like that, with Lou in Harry's arms, and Harry's face buried in Lou's hair.


	32. Heart To Heart

Louis' eyes fluttered open the next morning to find Harry leaning over him, smiling. His green eyes were laced with faint, purple circles and his shoulder length curls were pulled back into a bun.

 

"Morning, Love," he said, planting a kiss on his forehead.

"Mmm. Morning, babe," Lou replied, his voice low and hoarse. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and he rubbed them, letting out a squeaky yawn.

"You must've been tired," Harry said, rubbing Lou's shoulder blade gently.

"Huh?" Lou asked, wrinkling his nose.

"It's 1:30, love," Harry replied with a giggle.

"Oh, fuck," Louis said, sitting up and reaching for his phone. "I have a Zete thing at 2, but I'm just gonna cancel it."

Harry nodded, unsure if he should encourage Louis to cancel it or not. On the one hand, he was clearly tired, physically and mentally, and he could use the extra rest. On the other hand, it didn't look great on his part for cancelling last minute.

"Okay," Louis replied, sending the email. "I'm all yours." 

He climbed onto Harry's chest, looking down into his eyes with a silly smile. It was like a small kitten had crawled on top of him and wanted to play.

"How was last night for you?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, and scooping Lou into a hug.

"Fuck," Louis replied, blushing. "So good, Harry. Like really bloody good. Was it good for you?"

"Oh of course," Harry said, his green eyes brightening. "It was my first time top... and I'm glad it was with you."

Louis laughed, rolling his eyes. "You're glad you fucked me?"

"I'm glad I fucked you," Harry giggled, grabbing Lou by the waist.

"Haz, stop I had too much to drink last night, don't touch my stomach!" Lou resisted, pulling away and rolling onto the other side of the bed.

"Hey," Harry said, sternly, turning so he could look into Louis' eyes. "Don't say that. You're absolutely fine. We're going to get something to eat. Okay? You have to eat breakfast, Lou. We drank so much, you have to eat something nutritious."

Louis stared at Harry. It was the first time he had ever demanded that he do something, and he wasn't sure if he liked it. Harry looked sexy when he was aggressive. His tone got lower and he wrinkled his brow in a serious fashion, his lips twisting into a smoldering pout. He sort of looked like a cross between a disgruntled parent at a parent teacher conference and an angry businessman trying to make a deal.

No, louis didn't mind harrys aggressive tone. What he minded was what Harry had said. That he had to eat. That they had to get breakfast.

Eating was not something Louis had any intention of doing. Last night, he went way over his calorie limit, and would have to spend the rest of today restricting to make up for it.

"Louis? I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't care," Harry said softly. Lou turned closer to him, his lips parted, but no words came out.

"What is it? You look like you're about to cry," Harry said, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

Lou stared at him, shaking his head. "I appreciate what you're trying to do," he finally replied. "But I can't."

"Can't eat breakfast?" Harry asked, raising a brow.

Louis nodded, looking down at the blankets instead of meeting Harry's gaze.

"Yes you can, babe," Harry cooed. "Of course you can."

"I had too much yesterday," Lou said, shaking his head.

"I know. I did too. But today's a new day. We have to eat, Lou. I'm starving. Aren't you hungry?" Harry asked, trying desperately to figure out what was wrong with his boyfriend. He'd never seen him look so defeated.

Louis nodded, wrapping the blanket around himself like a cacoon.

"Okay. Great. It means your body needs food, Louis. What's worrying you? We can go to that salad place if you want! It doesn't have to be unhealthy," Harry said, trying to make the situation more manageable.

"No," Louis said. "No. I just...fuck. I just don't want to eat okay?!"

Harry stared at lou, who was trembling with rage. Things were worse than he thought.

"I did some research," Harry said slowly. "On what you have. You're really hurting your liver. And all of your organs. You're not getting proper nutrients, Lou. You can get really sick- if you aren't already.... I just. This is pretty serious...."

Louis glared at harry, a tear falling down his cheek. "You don't think I know that, Haz?" He growled. "I know that. Okay. I know my health is at risk. I just don't care."

"Why don't you care though?" Harry demanded. "I care. I care so much, Lou. And this whole thing is scaring me."

"Why do you care?" Lou asked, turning the tables on him.

"I care because... I care because I love you Lou and I don't want you to get hurt or sick," Harry replied.

It took a second to sink in for both of them. Harry didn't even realize what he had said until he was done with his sentence, and by then, it was too late to undo it.

Cheeks flaming red, he stared at Lou awaiting a response, hoping and praying that it would be a positive one.

"You love me?" Louis asked, his blue eyes wide with emotion.

"Yes, I love you," Harry said, crawling over to Lou's pile of blankets and kissing him chastely on the lips.

"I... fuck," Louis stammered. "I love you too."

Harry stared at Louis, smiling so wide his dimples looked like a portal to a new dimension.

"That's amazing, Louis," he said, his eyes welling with tears.

Harry rested his head on Louis' chest, holding his hand and playing with the bracelet on his wrist.

"You know, I just want you to get better, Lou. Want you happy and healthy. That's all," Harry said quietly. "I'm sorry I keep upsetting you. I don't know what to do. But tell me how I can help, and I'll try my best."

Louis shrugged. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's just the voice - the voice in my head, doesn't want me to eat. And that's why I freak out. But I can fight against it. If I really, really try. It's so hard though. Easier to just not eat," he replied.

Harry nodded, excited that Lou was finally sharing something with him. The more he knew, the more he could try to help.

"What if we got something healthy? Like a smoothie?" Harry asked.

"I can try," Louis shrugged. Harry smiled and brushed a wisp of fallen Hair out of louis' eye.

"Thank you for trying, love," Harry said.

Louis nodded. "Anything for my boyfriend," he laughed.

Harry kissed him again, this time on the nose. Lou laughed and pulled Harry onto his chest, wrapping his arms around him and snuggling close.

"Okay, Love," Harry finally said, after several minutes of cuddling. "It's almost two. Let's go eat."

Louis swallowed but nodded, and followed Harry out of bed. All Louis had was his costume to wear, so Harry gave him a T-shirt and a pair of joggers that were way too big and long.

"Roll them up, sweetie," Harry told him, giggling at the sight of Lou in athletic clothes.

"Styles, after we eat, I'm going to burn any more of these pairs of pants you have in your closet," Louis said with a dramatic eye roll.

"Okay, babe," Harry replied with a sassy smirk. "But your ass looks good in them..."


	33. Happy

"Hey, Love," Harry said softly. He and Louis were on the back patio of a restaurant on a Sunday morning eating brunch.

Harry watched Lou, who seemed quite focused on his egg white omelette and whole wheat toast. When Harry called him, he looked up, his blue eyes wide and bright.

"Yeah?" he asked, taking a bite of his toast. Harry thought back to their first date just a few months ago, where Louis could hardly look at the bread without getting upset.

"I'm just. I'm so proud of you. I hope you know that, babe," Harry said shyly.

"For what?" Lou asked wrinkling his nose.

"Well, for this. A few months ago, you wouldn't be able to be here right now. You worked so hard to get better, and make positive changes in your life," Harry elaborated, his voice thick with emotion. His hair was past his shoulders now, and he pushed a wispy curl out of his eyes before taking a bite of his chocolate chip pancakes.

"Stop being so mushy," Louis replied, rolling his eyes. But deep down, he knew harry was right. The morning after their first time, he had a breakdown in the smoothie shop. It was one of those places that lists the calorie count on everything, and it was too much for him to handle, not to mention all of the different flavors.

"You okay, Lou?" Harry had asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lou nodded, but his face was pale and he looked unsteady. Harry wrapped an arm around him, helping him with his balance.

"Let's sit down for a second. Tell me what's wrong?" Harry asked, leading him to an empty table.

Louis was breathing really fast now, shaking a little in Harry's arms.

"Can you speak?" Harry asked, reaching for his phone.

"I... don't know what's wrong," Louis croaked. His voice was so low it was barely audible.

Louis was starting to feel terrified now, and he didn't know why. The calorie labels had made him nervous, but he wasn't so nervous to the point that he would have a panic attack over it. There was something else wrong - something else seemed off.

"Hey, you really don't look so good," Harry said, calmly. "Do you want me to call someone?"

Louis shook his head fervently. He didn't need medical attention. It wasn't that bad.

He got up to leave, but immediately began to feel dizzy and fell on top of Harry, who stared at him bewildered.

"Okay. It's okay," Harry said, stroking his back.  
"Tell me what's going on. What hurts? What are you feeling? Dizzy? Overheated?"

Louis shrugged. His heart was racing and thoughts were swirling around in his head like soft serve ice cream. Now that he thought of it, he did have a really bad pain on his right side. A stabbing, shooting pain. That's why he had fell, because the pain was so bad it hurt to stand up right.

"Pain," Louis said, pointing to where it hurt. He was barely coherent, and Harry noticed that he was starting to pass out on top of him.

Hands trembling, Harry called 911. And when he sat in the back of the ambulance, watching the paramedics treat his pale, unconscious boyfriend, he felt more scared than he ever had in his life.

Liver damage was the cause of his episode, they later found in the hospital. They said Lou would be okay, but that his alcoholism had been destroying his body for years, and that he was malnourished and was lacking important vitamins and minerals. His electrolytes were also unbalanced. Things were much worse than they thought.

When Lou was finally conscious again, Harry came into his room with flowers.

"Hey, babe," he said excitedly. "How you feeling?"

Louis nodded towards Harry, unsmiling. He looked so small and sick in the hospital bed, with purple circles lining his eyes and an IV sticking out of his wrist.

"I've been better," Louis chuckled.

Harry set the flowers down and took a seat next to Louis' bed, stroking his hand softly.

"You scared me. I'm so glad you're okay," Harry told him, biting his lip a little from nervousness.

"Sorry," Lou replied, looking away.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. You're sick. It's not your fault," Harry said sincerely. He planted a kiss on Lou's forehead, and Lou cracked a small smile, though he was still feeling guilty.

"It kind of is. For not eating and drinking too much," Louis said roughly. "It was bound to happen."

Harry stared at him, clutching his chest as if his heart was breaking right before their eyes.

"Lou... you. You can't keep doing what you were doing," Harry said, his voice cracking a bit. "You have to get better, babe. You deserve to be happy and healthy."

Louis looked at Harry and then looked back down at the IV on his wrist. He was right. He really couldn't keep doing this.

"I know I have to stop," he sighed. "It's just... it's so hard...."

Louis was crying now, his shoulders bobbing up and down as he cried. Harry got up and joined him on the bed, wrapping him in a warm hug. It was what he needed right now.

"I know it's hard, honey," Harry said. "But you're louis Tomlinson. The strongest, sassiest, most bad ass lad I know. You can do it, babe."

Louis laughed a little, and looked up at Harry, his eyes still wet with tears.

"Well thanks, darling," he replied. "But you forgot sexy."

"There we go," Harry giggled, pulling him in closer. "There's the Louis I know."

And as he laid there, entangled in Harry's arms, Louis realized what he had to do, if not for him, for harry. So they could spend more time together. So they could go to restaurants without him having a freak out. So there would be no more hospital trips or health emergencies. So they could just lay there, in each others arms, not worrying about anything about how much they loved each other.

He had to do this. He had to recover.

Harry was as supportive as ever during the process. When Lou finally got home, Harry helped him get all of the alcohol out of the house, and then went to the grocery store with him to pick out meals from the meal plan they had given him in the hospital.

Lou's stomach churned at the sight of the word 'carbs,' on the list, but he was allowed to pick healthy things like brown rice and quinoa. So that made it a bit less daunting.

When it came to 'dessert,' though, Louis was completely distraught.

"Let's just get fruit," Louis said quickly.

"That's not on the list, love," Harry told him.

"Can I just skip it? I really don't need dessert," Lou whined, motioning to his stomach.

"Hey, listen to me. You need it. You do need it okay. The doctors said you need all of these things, so we're gonna get them," Harry said, a bit harshly. "And even if they didn't put dessert on the list, you deserve a treat every now and then, Louis. And not alcohol. A real treat. I'll eat it with you, too. Now tell me, what did you used to like, before all this happened?"

Louis wrinkled his nose, trying to think back to what he used to eat. He looked around the aisle, searching for ideas.

"Mmm. Milano's," he said, spotting the cookies. "Those were my favorite. With milk."

"Those are good," Harry said, grabbing two boxes and putting them in the cart. "See, that wasn't so bad, right? You're doing great."

Louis nodded. Buying the food wasn't so bad. But eating it was. For the next few weeks, he had to hold back tears every time he sat down for a meal. Thoughts of calories and carb content and fat danced in his head with each bite he took, and nausea racked his stomach from the withdrawal symptoms. Sometimes they were so bad, he would vomit, or start shaking. Harry would always comfort him if he could, or he would call Zayn to come home if harry wasn't there.

Liam had long left the flat, after getting kicked out of the frat for misconduct. He had apparently been on a variety of hard drugs during the fight, and had been dealing them out of the flat. Louis felt guilty for the situation, because he knew part of zayn and Liam's relationship issues stemmed from Liam's lingering feelings for him. But Liam had crossed the line, and it was almost a relief to not have to see him every day. There was always some kind of tension when they were in a room together.

So zayn and harry were louis' main supporters during his initial months of recovery. It was an overwhelming process, and Lou ended up having to drop out of the play he was in to make time for therapy, his AA meetings and his doctors appointments. It was like having a full time job in addition to uni.

He still taught his theatre class though, and he was still the president of Zete, but didn't attend the parties anymore. He took on a more administrative role, working on policies and reform, and allowed Zayn, the new VP, to tackle the event planning.

But even with all of his appointments and meetings and the love and support of his boyfriend, Louis still struggled. Constantly. Every day was a battle against the demons in his head, and he would be the first to admit that he didn't always win. Some nights, a chicken cutlet was enough to send him sobbing into his hands at the dinner table. Other nights, he would just stare at the wall, craving wine or vodka or something to the edge off. And others, he would lean over the toilet, vomiting and trembling, as withdrawal took over his body. During all of those nights, Harry was there. He was always there, rubbing his back and getting him a glass of water and telling him it would be okay. That he would be okay.

Aside from the withdrawal symptoms, body image was the hardest part of recovery for Louis. He ended up losing a lot of weight initially from all the vomiting. But when his body readapted, and he was able to hold down his food, he gained it back, and then some.

He wasn't fat by any means. He was still fit and muscular, just not quite as lean as he was when he was ill. According to the hospital, the weight he was trying to maintain, 145 (he lied when he told Harry he weighed 155), was much lower than his body's set point, which is why he had to limit his calories to maintain it. His natural weight, which was about 160, could easily be maintained on 2200 calories a day.

That made sense to Louis, logically. But it didn't make it any less upsetting to gain weight - after he had spent two years trying to do the opposite. The worst moment was when he outgrew his favorite pair of skinny jeans, a situation which nearly caused him to give up on recovery completely.

"I am so fucking fat, Harry! Why didn't you tell me?" He basically screamed, throwing the pants on the floor and collapsing onto the bed.

Harry rushed over to him, grabbing him by the waist - a mistake which he quickly regretted. Louis pushed him away roughly, nearly rolling him off the bed.

"Don't. Touch. My. Fucking. Stomach," he growled.

Harry looked at his hands, shaking his head. He should have known better. Ever since they started dating, that's all Louis had ever told him when they got intimate. Not to touch his waist or his stomach. But he couldn't help it - he just found him so beautiful and sexy. He wanted to explore every part of him.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, I know you don't like that," Harry said calmly. "But you are not fat, Louis. I promise you. You're so beautiful. So, so beautiful. Please just believe me."

"I was," Louis said, sniffling and curling his knees to his chest. "When I was a lower weight."

"Any weight. You're beautiful at any weight," Harry corrected him.

"I know you're upset. But let's just relax, okay? You can get new jeans now. Better ones. Sexier ones. We'll go on a shopping spree," Harry said, excitedly, throwing his hands in the air.

Louis nodded. He still felt utterly disgusting and uncomfortable in his body, but retail there always cheered him up.

"Okay," he said, locking eyes with the green eyed beauty next to him. "Sorry for the freakout. It's just been tough, you know?"

"I know," Harry replied. "But three months sober? That's fucking incredible. And your electrolytes are improving. Your nutrition is way better. Lou. I know you feel upset, but you've made so much progress, love. So much."

Louis nodded, crawling over to Harry and wrapping him in a hug. He left a bit of space between their torsos, as he felt uncomfortable letting Harry feel him at his new weight, but that was fine with Harry. He just wanted Lou to feel comfortable and loved.

Over time, three months of sobriety turned into five months and then into six months, and now, Louis would be graduating in just a few weeks. And as they sat celebrating over brunch, Harry hardly recognized the Louis in front of him.

He had never seen someone look so strong, so confident, so beautiful. Louis had been all those things before, but there was always insecurity and shame lurking beneath the surface. Now, he was truly vibrant. He was healthy and he was secure in his recovery. Sometimes he needed a little convincing that he looked good at this weight, but he was still as sassy as ever and was enjoying his new wardrobe, which is even sparklier and more flamboyant than the last.

In his free time, since he wasn't medically cleared to dance anymore, he began experimenting with makeup and had his own makeup channel on YouTube. He actually had quite a following and was invited out to LA a few times for events. He always brought Harry, of course, and often used him as his practice dummy when he needed to try out new shades of makeup.

Harry smiled at Lou from across the table, taking in all of his radiant energy. The Louis he fell in love with six months ago was a little broken, and he never minded that one bit, but it was so great to see him happy. Finally, truly, happy.

"I love you so much," Harry blurred out randomly.

Louis giggled. "Are you high?" He laughed.

"Yes. I'm high on Lou-phetamine," Harry replied.

Louis rolled his eyes, finishing up the rest of his omelette. His appetite was back at full force, and if scared him sometimes, but he did his best to push through. Today was a good day, and he hardly heard the voice as he enjoyed his meal, though other days were not so easy.

"You're a character," Louis snickered. "But I love you too. Mr. Styles."

Harry smiled, pushing his finished plate away. He traced a tattoo on his wrist, one of many he had recently gotten. Like with his hair, his family wouldn't approve of this either. But he was learning to embrace who he was, not worrying about who liked it and who didn't.

"Ice cream?" Louis asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry's eyes widened and he looked at Louis, surprised. Louis never wanted to get dessert voluntarily - he always had to be encouraged to eat the three weekly desserts that were assigned on his meal plan, and he had already fulfilled them for the week.

"Really you want to?" Harry asked, smiling.

Louis nodded. "Yeah, I'm feeling it," he said.

"Awesome," Harry replied, waving the waitress over for the check.

After he paid, he grabbed louis' hand and led him out of the restaurant and to the street, where he grabbed his face and kissed him passionately.

"You taste like pancakes," Louis giggled, between kisses.

"You taste like omelette," Harry chuckled.

Louis smiled and moved closer to harry, pressing their bodies together and continuing the kiss. Harry felt louis moving his hand, pushing it downwards so that it wrapped around his waist.

Harry didn't say anything, but he wanted to explode with excitement at that moment. Because Lou was finally allowing him to hold him by the waist. He was finally accepting himself, loving himself. And he was finally allowing Harry to love him too.

The end.

Thanks for reading :)


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